


An Unexpected Friend

by MulaSaWala



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dragon Culture & Customs, Dragons, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Bilbo Baggins, Protective Thorin, Rebuilding Erebor, Slow Burn, Tags Contain Spoilers, protective smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MulaSaWala/pseuds/MulaSaWala
Summary: ---."Smaug owes allegiance to no one, but if he should side with the Enemy... a dragon could be used to terrible effect,"-Gandalf the Gray.A different first encounter between Bilbo and Smaug changes the course of history, and an unlikely friendship conspires to redraw the map of Middle Earth.---an excerpt from 'An Unexpected Friend'---Smaug looked at the creature he'd caught. What a tiny thing it was! Even smaller than the dwarves, and much lighter of step. Had it not been holding a beacon while rifling through his gold, Smaug would hardly have noticed it.But here it was, and the dragon was careful not to crush the tiny thing in his grasp."Here you are," Smaug rumbled, opening his hand.Inside it was a creature he had never seen before, but upon closer inspection, one he knew immediately in his heart as kin. The creature carried within it something Smaug hadn't encountered in ages: the touch of the Green Lady.A fellow child of Yavanna, after all these years."Hello,"
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Fíli, Bilbo Baggins & Kíli, Bilbo Baggins & Ori, Bilbo Baggins & Smaug, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 221
Kudos: 819





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please always check the tags, as I update them almost every chapter
> 
> Maps to Guide Your Way  
> [Middle Earth](https://i.imgur.com/NrgFc4C.jpg%22)
> 
> Zoom in on the Company's Path  
> [Map 1](https://cutewallpaper.org/21/middle-earth-map-high-resolution/Photos-The-Original-Writers-Group-London-England-Meetup.jpeg)  
> [Map 2](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/f/f1/Rhudaur_from_map.png/revision/latest?cb=20190423141458)  
> [The Shire](https://cutewallpaper.org/21/middle-earth-map-high-resolution/Explore-Map-Of-Middle-Earth-Map-Wallpaper-and-more.jpg)
> 
> [The Lonely Mountain and Surroundings](http://cdn8.openculture.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/tolkien-map.jpg)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is not a good burglar

There was more gold in the dragon's horde than Bilbo thought existed in all of Middle Earth. The mass of it rose before him like the rolling hills of the Shire, gold coins gleaming even in the dim light of his lone torch. There was no doubt that the torchlight drew attention to him, but he lacked the stone sense of the dwarrow, and he'd lost his way more than once.

_'If I get out of here alive, I'm going to have a few words with whoever designed these corridors,'_ Bilbo had thought crossly to himself. He was no architect, but even he could see that having a maze instead of proper paths was not the way to go, no sir!

Bilbo felt strangely reluctant to go forward, having reached the edge of the gilded landscape. It felt vaguely disrespectful. He took a careful step forward, and was certain that just the gold under his feet could buy every smial in Hobbiton.

Two more steps forward, and now Bilbo was standing on what could surely purchase all of West Farthing. How many steps until he could afford the entire Shire, he wondered.

He couldn't stop thinking about it, giddiness laced with a touch of fear. A handful of these coins would feed the Gamgees for a decade. He thought of the mathoms and the mathom house, and the gifts that went round and round the neighborhood. He thought of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and her eternal quest for his silver spoons.

Was this gold madness? Was he going gold mad? Gazing out into the treasure as far as the eye could see, he felt a bit lightheaded. Surely, if he were going gold mad, he would know, wouldn't he? He didn’t exactly know what the sickness would entail, but just from the name, _gold mad_ , well, that did not sound pleasant at all. 

Was it like poppy seed? The excess would cause one to lose all their sense? Oh, but he didn't want to own all of this! Even the fourteenth share in his contract, a weight settled on his chest at the very notion.

_'Bother these dwarrow and their blasted gold, anyway!'_ Bilbo fumed. Whatever it was he'd expected, it certainly wasn't this!

How was he supposed to find the Arkenstone in this mess? Nevermind that he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, even if he'd known the gem like the back of his hand, there was no way to find it by himself in this mountain of treasure.

Bilbo considered the gold under his feet, wiggling his toes. He was thinking so hard that he didn't notice the movement under the gold until it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know any more.
> 
> I think bilbo was more gold shookt than gold mad, and forgot that he was supposed to be looking out for a dragon.


	2. A Curious Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Smaug is delighted by the existence of hobbits, and one hobbit in particular

There was something in his nest.

A pair of enormous eyes opened, unhampered by the surrounding darkness. Unmoving though the dragon was, his eyes darted to and fro, finding a speck of light in the distance. In an instant, the dragon was fully alert, ready to fend off any and all creatures foolish enough to tread where they did not belong.

Looking closely, Smaug saw that it was only one, a solitary interloper. Foolish indeed was the creature, for it stood still, holding aloft a flame that drew attention like a beacon. In the years that Smaug had occupied the mountain, many others had found their way here. Whether climbing up from the mines below, or climbing down through the many passageways of the mountains, they kept coming, one group after another, seeking that which was not theirs to take.

Looking at this new interloper, however, Smaug found that the creature appeared hewn from a different stone. No gold lust clouded its eyes, only a wariness that seemed to Smaug vaguely unsuitable for the occasion. The creature seemed unaware that a dragon gazed upon it, and without the dragon, there was only gold here, after all. Gold was hardly anything to be wary about.

Deciding that this thing warranted closer examination, Smaug slithered his way under the treasure, making no sound until he could capture the creature in his talons.

Rising up on his hind legs to leave both hands free, Smaug looked at the creature he'd caught. What a tiny thing it was! Even smaller than the dwarves, it was, and much lighter of step. Had it not been rifling through his gold, Smaug would hardly have noticed it.

But here it was! The dragon was careful not to crush it in his grasp.

"Here you are," Smaug rumbled, opening his hand.

Inside was a creature he had never seen before, but, upon closer inspection, one he knew in his heart as kin. Dragons were creatures of magic, old magic, and could sense what others could not: This creature carried within it the touch of the Green Lady.

A fellow child of Yavanna, after all these years!

"Hello," greeted the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.

The creature did naught but squeak in fright. 

‘ _How charming,_ ’ Smaug thought anyway, holding it closer, half wondering if he should expect a response. When none seemed forthcoming, Smaug allowed himself to sate his curiosity in the manner by which most animals of Middle Earth did.

He sniffed the creature.

A dragon’s nose was a powerful thing. By scent alone, Smaug could tell that, though this creature was not a dwarf, it spent much of its time with them. Perhaps, being of a size, they chose to nest together? This warranted further investigation.

Beneath the scent of dwarf was the scent of man, and, unmistakably, elvish steel, which made Smaug’s nose twitch, pulling back to find his eyes drawn to the offending piece of weaponry. There was no love lost between the _Urulóki_ and the elves. Although he was but a hatchling then, the dragon well remembered the War of Wrath, and how many of his kin had fallen under elven blades.

So lost in thought was Smaug that he almost didn’t hear the creature in his hand speak. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


If there was one thing that Bilbo was despairing to find that he was growing accustomed to, it was being carted about by Bigger Things. 

Being set upon a pony by a pair of dwarrow was only the beginning, it seemed. Since then, Bilbo felt like he’d been picked up by all and sundry, from the trolls in the trollshaws, to the Eagles of Manwë, to Beorn the Shapechanger who, after seeing his big ears and furry feet, had referred to him as a bunny. Even Sigrid, the Bowman’s daughter, had held him aloft to reach something on a high shelf, although she’d apologized readily enough when he explained that he would next time prefer a step stool.

And now this dragon!

In truth, Bilbo had not given the dragon much thought, and had indeed forgotten all about it when he’d seen the mountains of gold. He was certainly regretting it now, being captured by a clawed hand, and held so high up in the air that the fall would surely kill him.

“Hello,” it said, and Bilbo was so surprised that even his hobbit manners deserted him.

Hello? A hello? Surely, his ears were playing tricks on him!

Nothing today was going as he’d expected. First was this ghastly amount of treasure, when he would have preferred something more manageable, and now the dragon was speaking to him. Speaking to him! Saying hello, as if he’d been invited over for tea!

Bilbo was of the firm opinion that dragons ought not be able to speak. Indeed, the few times that the Company had spoken of expelling the great beast from their ancestral home, Bilbo had imagined something more like coming home to find a bear in his smial, one that had been looking to spend the winter, and then having to figure out how to shoo it out of the place -- though of course on a grander scale, and with more teeth.

Had Thorin not said that the mountain was infested? Only animals “infested”! Bilbo had another vision of the hive of bees that had occupied a spare bedroom in Bag-End. He’d had to call Holman Gamgee to come and relocate the blighters into a far corner of his garden.

But now the treasure was too big to manage, the Arkenstone too lost to find, and the dragon too polite to slay.

The great beast nosed at him, like an overgrown puppy, and this was how Bilbo found his courage. If the dragon was going to eat him, it would have already done so! If it was to keep him alive, then there was no call to be rude, sniffing him like this! 

(There were, of course, instances where the dwarrow seemed to sniff him as well, and perhaps it was the hobbits who were unusual in their refusal to sniff other creatures without so much as a by your leave, but Bilbo firmly buried that thought at the back of his mind)

“I beg your pardon!” Bilbo fairly shouted, to make sure that the great beast could hear him. 

“It speaks!” The dragon said, which, _well,_

“ _He_. _He_ speaks,” Bilbo corrected hotly. He was not an _it_ , thank you very much!

“Peace, little brother. I have not encountered your like before,” said the dragon, which Bilbo thought was fair. Honestly, he was fairly sure that he was the first hobbit that the Men of Laketown had ever seen as well.

“Well, I’ve never seen a dragon before either,” the hobbit replied, in a calmer tone.

Before Bilbo could say anything else, the dragon moved, placing Bilbo on a high ledge, where Smaug could lounge comfortably and keep Bilbo level with his eyes. Familiar as Bilbo was with the crick in the neck one got when conversing for too long with the Big Folk, he was grateful.

”Well met, little brother. I am Smaug the Golden, the Magnificent, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.” The dragon introduced itself. Himself.

”I am Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End,” Bilbo replied, bowing at the waist, but at a loss past that. He didn’t quite have a mouthful of titles they way others certainly did, although going around calling himself magnificent was something he could definitely do without, so maybe it was for the best. 

“Tell me, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, what manner of creature are you?” Smaug asked. He didn’t seem to mind Bilbo’s lack of Titles.

”You are not dwarf, nor man, nor elf, nor anything else I have encountered in all my years in Arda.”

_‘Perish the thought,’_ Bilbo nearly said, before biting his tongue at the rude words. In truth, Bilbo could think of nothing that would be less welcome in the Shire than a dragon, not even Gandalf of the Unwanted Adventures, for at least the Gray Wizard had the courtesy of providing fireworks, sometimes, when he visited. 

“I’m a hobbit,” he said instead, knowing that the word would bear no meaning to the dragon, save perhaps that that Bilbo was one.

“My name is Gandalf, and Gandalf means me,” the Wizard had said what now seemed to Bilbo like years ago. While Bilbo was not presumptuous enough to say that he was the pinnacle of Hobbit-ness, he thought he was, save this current adventure, an average enough example of a regular Hobbit. 

Smaug made a sound that Bilbo took as encouragement to continue, so continue he did. Finding the dragon pleasant enough company, Bilbo sat down, making himself comfortable.

In belated relief at not being eaten or incinerated, Bilbo spoke with the dragon until he was nearly hoarse. Before anything else, he told the dragon of the kindly west, for Bilbo believed that to understand hobbits, one must first understand the place they called home. Far from the rocky landscape of the Lonely Mountain were the rolling green hills of the Shire and fertile flatland that surrounded them. A peaceful river, filled with quick silver fish and large lazy brown ones. And trees! Heavy with fruit, and with strong branches for climbing, and to rest beneath on a lazy summer day. 

And thus did dawn reach the two creatures under the Lonely Mountain.

* * *

If there had been any doubt in Smaug that the creatures known as hobbits were of the Lady Yavanna, they were put to rest when Bilbo the hobbit spoke of his home. While the Ents and Entwives had been created to guard all that grew from the earth, and dragons to guard the creatures that walked upon the earth, it seemed that The Green Lady had made Hobbits as well, to tend to the earth itself. 

Bilbo the hobbit had become silent when Smaug spoke again. 

“If you are so fond of your hobbit holes, what are you doing so far from home, little brother?” Smaug asked. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he continued, ”Do the dwarves force you to do their bidding? Do they send you down into my lair to perish?”

Even as he spoke, Smaug’s head was filled with lamentations for all of Yavanna’s chosen creatures. Were all of them cursed to toil, to be beasts of war or beasts of burden? Had it not been enough that his own people had been corrupted by the dark magics of Morgoth; were hobbits even now serving under some dark dwarf? 

“No,” Bilbo the hobbit was quick to say, “No, none of that. I’m under contract, it’s all very civilized,” he explained

Smaug was only mildly reassured. The hobbit paused here, organizing his thoughts before he continued.

“Well, to be quite honest, I’m here to steal from you,” the hobbit said, and it was so ridiculous that Smaug found he could not take offense. “I was to find and bring back a gem called the Arkenstone,

“I don’t suppose you have one of those lying around, do you?” Bilbo looked at him sheepishly. 

Smaug considered it. He didn’t quite know what an Arkenstone was supposed to look like, and said as much to the hobbit. Although he liked precious stones well enough (Arken or otherwise), as any dragon did, it was the gold he could not presently part with. Perhaps the dwarves would be content with an Arkenstone, if they could find it? At the very least, perhaps they would be content to wait a few more years for their home, if Smaug gave them some pretty baubles.

“They said I’d know it when I see it, but so far I have not,” relayed Bilbo, “Although, from what I gather, it’s rather like a large diamond. It’s supposed to let all the dwarves know that you’re dea— no longer here?” Bilbo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Or maybe Thorin needs it to lead his people back into the mountain, I’m not entirely sure,”

The hobbit lapsed into a contemplative silence.

Smaug was not surprised to learn that the dwarves wanted to live in Erebor once again. Living in the mountain had given Smaug a sense of respect for the dwarves. For their small size, they had managed to build something very grand, worthy of Smaug the Magnificent. 

However, though the Lonely mountain was a good nest, Smaug had no desire to battle the dwarves for it. At least, not in his current state. While a horde of treasure made a good nest, it was the gold in particular that Smaug needed to leech the madness from him, to keep the dragon-sickness at bay, and it was the gold that he must keep. For now. Smaug only needed a few years more. In exchange for gold and time, gems seemed a worthy trade.

* * *

With trepidation, Bilbo ascended the steps leading to the hidden entrance from which he had entered the mountain, the sun already high in the sky and lighting his path, even from the distant opening. The past night had been so bizarre, he would have thought that he’d fallen down and hit his head, were it not for the object he held in his hands. 

Between the hobbit and the dragon, they had not been able to find a single specific jewel, as Bilbo had predicted. Smaug had argued that perhaps an Arkenstone was not a single gem, but a type of gem unfamiliar to the dragon and the hobbit, of which the one owned by Thorin's grandfather was only one of many. Bilbo was of the opinion that perhaps the Arkenstone was a particularly spectacular example of a known gem, the same way that there were many silver spoons, but that his mother's were a particularly good set, and that was why Lobelia lusted after them so.

After a time, when Bilbo grew hungry and daybreak was near, Smaug sent the hobbit back to his company, giving him a pouch of coins for himself, and a gem that they hoped might be the Arkenstone for the dwarrow.  
  
And what a gem it was! To Bilbo, it was unimaginably huge, the size of a large melon, or perhaps a small watermelon. And it was heavy! Several times, Bilbo had needed to stop to catch his breath, carrying it around. Which was just as well, because Bilbo could not handle the pouch of coins and the gem at the same time. Whenever he’d stopped, he had retraced his steps, leaving the gold coins on the floor to mark his path.

He had to return to Smaug tonight, after all  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake 1
> 
> “Is this the Arkenstone?” Bilbo asked Balin without guile as he placed it at the center of their campsite.
> 
> The company stared at the gem worth a moderate fortune that their resident burglar brought back. Even without his eyepiece, Balin could see that it was solid diamond.
> 
> “Not... not quite, master burglar,” the dwarf in question replied.
> 
> Omake 2
> 
> Of course, Kili was the first to pick it up. 
> 
> Bilbo had almost called a warning that it was heavier than it looked, but the young prince had merely held it aloft, first with both hands, then with one, twisting and turning it in the sunlight, as if it weighed nothing at all to him. 
> 
> ...Bilbo very carefully did not think about how he had struggled to carry it on his back, and made himself ready for sleep instead.
> 
> NOTES:  
> Kili was not injured by the Morgul arrow in this AU, and the brothers like bothering Bofur when he’s hungover, so the entire company was able to go to Erebor together and no one was left behind in Laketown.


	3. The Second Night, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo returns to Smaug, and Smaug is Pleased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the book, The Company had days to find the door, so this is the canon I am following. Since the door is open, they're not really under a deadline anymore, and they think that they can take the time to be careful about finding the Arkenstone.

The following night, Bilbo went down the path he had marked with a heavy heart and his thoughts muddled. He wondered whether the others knew that the dragon could speak. He wondered if it would matter to them either way. 

When he had taken longer than anticipated, the rest of the company had set up camp at the base of the great statue to await his return. They were so happy to see him, and relieved that he had not been eaten or squashed or incinerated by the dragon. He'd wanted to tell them that Smaug was quite intelligent, and very polite besides, but something had stayed his tongue.

Orcs were intelligent. They could speak, couldn’t they? They kept animals, like wargs, and made plans, like ending the line of Durin. Perhaps they even had families, or whatever passed for it with orcs. But the thought of killing an orc did not trouble Bilbo overmuch, did not make him queasy aside from the blood and guts that would be involved. 

Smaug was another kettle of fish altogether, Bilbo decided. He just didn’t seem _evil_ , plainly speaking. Certainly, none of the orcs had bothered with so much as a ‘How do you do?’ before trying to their level best to kill him, never mind introducing themselves properly.

"True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one," Gandalf had said to him once. Bilbo had taken the words to heart. He had spared the pitiful creature in the caves deep within the Misty Mountains, and it had tried to kill him! Surely, Smaug the Unexpectedly Mannered deserved no less.

And so did the hobbit set forth, this time equipped with provisions, and with new purpose. He knew that if he allowed a confrontation between his dwarrow and his dragon at this point it time, someone was sure to perish in the conflict.

He wanted to prevent that, if he could.

Down into the depths of Erebor he went, following his gold-marked path, but deviating slightly from it whenever the fancy took him. Whatever his maudlin thoughts, it seemed to him that they had had all the time in the world, now. They were no longer racing against the the changing of the seasons to arrive before Durin’s Day, and they were well-equipped by the Men of Lake Town.

As he walked, Bilbo wondered, idly, how much gold he could give to Bard the Bargeman without it being inappropriate.

* * *

In truth, Smaug had not expected the hobbit to come back, much less come back alone. With his task completed, Smaug had guessed that the supposed burglar would give the dwarves their Arkenstone, and leave with the gold Smaug had gifted him. Much less likely, had been the idea that Bilbo the hobbit would return with his dwarves and attempt to expel him from the mountain by force, which would have resulted in their deaths. 

Against all odds, however, Bilbo the hobbit had returned, alone, and Smaug was glad for it. Though he spent most of his time resting and sleeping, the dragon had found that the Lonely Mountain, at least in his case, was not named so solely due to geography.

”Here you are again, little brother,” Smaug said, rising from the gold, but not from sleep. This time, he had been aware the moment the hobbit had entered the dragon's lair.

“Hello again, Master Dragon,” was the reply, the hobbit waving to him with the hand that was not carrying his torch.

Smaug set a massive clawed hand down beside where his guest had stopped at the edge of the gold, and was delighted to find that the little thing trusted him already, climbing on without fear. 

“I am many things,” Smaug said as he returned the hobbit to his perch from the night before, “But your master is not one of them. Smaug is serviceable.”

”Oh! Then you must call me Bilbo in return,” was the reply, and Smaug could tell that the hobbit was pleased. 

“Were the dwarves satisfied with their Arkenstone?” Smaug asked without preamble. 

He was slightly put out, when Bilbo replied that no, to his regret, the gem they had found was not the Arkenstone. The hobbit then proceeded to produce a piece of parchment paper. One of the dwarves (“His name is Ori,” Bilbo supplied) had drawn the stone they sought.

The dragon and the hobbit looked at the parchment for a long while, Smaug harder than Bilbo, for although dragons had very keen eyesight, it was a very, very small drawing to him. After a while, though, they were both forced to admit that the sketch looked like nothing so much as a very well-rendered egg.

“Thorin said it was as exactly the same size as this drawing, so at least we know that the Arkenstone is not very big." Bilbo said.

"It’s supposed to ‘shine with its own inner light’, and they said it was all the colors of the rainbow?” he added doubtfully, for the drawing was done well, but had been done using charcoal, which meant it was not very helpful regarding color. 

Smaug recalled that he had seen some multicolored gems about, and that some of them were the correct shape and size. He told Bilbo as much. Perhaps the hobbit could bring up several stones this time, to see if the Arkenstone was one them. 

Setting Bilbo down on the gold once again, they began to search as they did the night before, although the hobbit seemed in much better spirits, and chatted with the dragon as they worked. 

Smaug was pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it was getting long, i decided to cut this chapter into two parts. 
> 
> I welcome comments, questions, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism!


	4. The Second Night, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo learns a bit more about Smaug, and Thorin absolutely smitten, but wonders if Bilbo is going a little gold mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering why i split this chapter into two, please note that this half alone is LONGER THAN THE REST OF THE FIC BEFORE IT 
> 
> *whale noises*
> 
> Also, i just added them, there are links to Maps at the Beginning and End of the Fic, for reference

Treasure, Bilbo found, was very dull, actually. The shine had worn off; the gold had lost its luster. What wonder he'd felt upon first seeing the 'long forgotten gold' of the dwarrow was well and truly gone. All Bilbo could see right now was a dreadful mess that was in his way.

It seemed a poor way to keep gold, to Bilbo's thinking. He had the vague idea that maybe it had been Smaug who spilled the treasure like this. All the better to lounge upon, perhaps? It did not seem very comfortable to the hobbit, but then he was not a dragon.

He tried to imagine how he would keep gold like this. On shelves perhaps? Like his mother's fine china? But no, that didn't fit what little he knew of dwarrow either. Perhaps in jars? Or chests? What about barrels?

After a while, it seemed to the hobbit that he and Smaug had been laboring for a long time. He couldn't tell time down in the mountain. On his last trip, he had stayed until he felt sleepy, and he planned to do the same again today.

He wasn’t sleepy yet, but he _was_ a bit tired. A tired hobbit looked for distractions from work. Seeking to cut two carrots with one stroke of the knife, Bilbo sought to satisfy his need for a distraction, and sate his curiosity. 

"Smaug, can I ask you something?" he began, and without waiting for a reply, proceeded with, "How did you come to be here, In Erebor?"

It had troubled Bilbo, when he’d taken a minute to think about it. He couldn’t reconcile the dragon he knew with the one that his friends cursed so bitterly. If there hadn’t been that name, Smaug, he would have thought they there were, perhaps, two different dragons in the Lonely Mountain.

“I do not recall, truthfully,” was Smaug’s reply.

Bilbo could scarcely believe it. He knew that the younger dwarrow had never seen the dragon, but the older dwarves spoke of Smaug, the pain seemed so fresh, the wound unhealed. 

In fact, the very night before they set forth from Lake Town, Bilbo had not been able to sleep. And neither had Thorin.

They had discussed the the dragon... among other things. And one of them had been the sacking of Erebor, Dale as a city turned to ash, and the root of Thorin’s mistrust of all elves. All that pain, because the dragon came—

“What do you mean, that you don't recall?” Bilbo prodded.

”I was in the throes of dragon sickness, and must have sought to purge it from myself.” Smaug said, almost to himself, claws digging through the gold with surprising delicacy.

“I'm... not sure I understand,” was all the hobbit could reply.

“Tell me, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, what do you know of dragons?” was the question posed, although Smaug could undoubtedly could guess at the answer.

“Nothing at all, really.” Bilbo admitted. For all his reading, it had been quite eye opening on the journey to find that he knew very little, “ I had thought for sure that dragons only existed in stories.”

Bilbo did not say that the dragon speaking and being more polite than some in the company had shocked him more than the dragon existing at all. Indeed, for all that it was the truth, Bilbo was afraid that his answer was a bit rude.

The fear was unfounded. Smaug’s massive head swung around to smile at him, and Bilbo found himself smiling back.

”Then you knew more than I when we met, little brother. Truly, I did not even know that hobbits existed at all!”

Bilbo figured not, for he couldn’t imagine any hobbit venturing so far from the Shire as to encounter dragons. 

Present company excluded, of course.

“There is much to be said about dragons,” Smaug continued carefully, “Maybe some day, I will tell you some of it.”

Bilbo, well accustomed to the secrecy of Dwarves, nodded in understanding.

"I would not think badly of you, if you don't wish to speak of it," Bilbo said, and was surprised to find that he spoke the truth. "It was before my time, and I was only curious.

"I consider the dwarrow I travel with my friends, you see," explained Bilbo, "And when they speak of the loss of Erebor, well," he trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

"Then, for you, little brother, I would speak of it, although I ask that you repeat this to no one."

Smaug stopped rifling through the sea of gold coins, coming to a rest with his head upon the treasure, so that he might look at his companion with more ease. Bilbo, who had long since stopped even the pretense of searching, sat down as well.

"Dragon sickness is the curse of my kind. In ages past, dark magic was used call dragons to serve a Dark Lord. It was in service to him that many of my people fell.

"It was not a service freely given, but a terrible bondage, from which we longed to be free. And so we sought and found ways to resist. In time, we found that gold, in its purest form, seemed to, what is the word—

"I cannot find it in the common tongue, but it became known to dragons that to have gold nearby was to be able to resist the call of Darkness. 

"The call grew weak with the fall of that Malice Which Does Not Sleep. Most dragons have strength and magic enough to resist it now. Those who don't, dwell in mountains filled with gold, for even deep in the earth, that gold can be enough. This who cannot resist, and cannot find gold, are not themselves. Sick.

“I was one such. Not strong enough to resist the call. I must have fallen under Dragon Sickness, and in my madness, sought the one thing that would cure what ailed me.”

“Gold,” gasped Bilbo, looking at the treasure beneath them with new eyes.

* * *

It brought shame to Smaug, to have been so weak, and thus accomplished even unwillingly what the Black Enemy wished. Smaug did not often think of his shortcomings; regret was less than useless to those blessed with life unending. But still, that gap in his memory, and his knowledge of what he must have done in his madness; Smaug did not like it.

“Wait, does it have anything to do with this?”

Pulled from his melancholy thoughts, Smaug brought his attention back to the hobbit, who held something familiar aloft to him.

“Ah, I had wondered where this went,” Smaug rumbled, “Perhaps it does, in a way, for I had to use my magic shield them from the call as well as myself. But that is neither here nor there. A stronger dragon would not have fallen under the Sickness either way,”

Smaug plucked the egg from the hobbit’s hands. It was stronger than it looked, but he held it carefully regardless.

“It feels cold, little brother. I fear that it is too late for this one,” said Smaug. He returned it to Bilbo’s waiting hands. “It is of no consequence. Not all eggs hatch, it is the will of fate which ones survive. I fear it is past all hope, but nevertheless, it is yours to do with as you will. If I am not mistaken, it is quite valuable to sorcerers.”

“Well,” the hobbit looked at the egg, “Maybe my wizard friend will know what to do with it.”

Reminded of the companions he had waiting outside, Bilbo put the dragon egg back into his pack, and proceeded to tell Smaug that the dwarves were bound and determined to enter Erebor tomorrow. Unspoken, though implied, was the idea that perhaps Bilbo’s wizard friend was on his way to expel the dragon from the mountain, should they find him.

“His name is Gandalf,” Bilbo told the dragon.

It was one name of many that Smaug would forget before the next night, for the hobbit seemed to have many friends, and none of them immortal. In general, Smaug did not bother knowing the names of the mortal folk, for they passed so quickly. Smaug suddenly wanted to know if hobbits were more like dwarves or more like elves in this matter. 

He was afraid to ask. 

“I... don’t think he’s quite ready to meet you just yet, though,” continued the hobbit, ignorant of Smaug’s worries.

They were speaking of a different oliphaunt in the cave, for now. Bilbo did not want Smaug fighting his friends. Smaug was in dubious agreement. A cheap conjurer and a dozen dwarves against Smaug the Mighty? The dragon was sure that he would absolutely slaughter them.

Smaug might have welcomed the chance to stretch his wings, but then, Bilbo seemed terribly fond of them.

“I would be willing to stay deeper in the mountain, in the caves or mines, for now? If you wish,” Smaug offered instead, 

“Most of the madness is gone, and this is more gold than I need besides,” 

Ah, but it stung Smaug’s pride, to run and hide like a dragon freshly hatched. But he could feel that Bilbo was anxious to ‘save’ him, the foolish creature. He seemed sure that it would be Smaug who would perish in the conflict, not his precious dwarves.

Smaug considered it, for a moment and agreed that it would be best to avoid a confrontation for now. It would only sting his pride, after all, to hide, and Smaug would suffer the small indignity to appease Bilbo. 

The hobbit did not seem suited for this kind of subterfuge, so he must be truly desperate to resort to it. 

Once they had a good number of possible Arkenstones, the two of them spent the rest of their time searching for a good place for Smaug to while away his time, away from the places that the dwarrow might have use for in the immediate future.

Before he left, Bilbo promised to return to their chosen place, and bring Smaug more treasure when he could. The dragon did not need it, for he was not so far from the gold that it could not keep the Dragon Sickness away.

Still, future visits sounded pleasant indeed. Previously, a single diamond had bought him a second visit from the hobbit, in a way. Now, the bargain was to allow a few dwarves into his mountain, in exchange for more pleasant company.

Smaug thought it a fair trade once again.

* * *

Thorin knew that Bilbo was hiding something. Light on his feet, quick and clever with his tongue, their Master Burglar was many things, but skilled at deception was not one of them. Earlier in their journey, Thorin knew he would have belabored the issue, demanded to be informed of all matters lest it affect their quest. 

However, in their months of travel, his trust in the smallest member of the Company had grown, trust and other feelings besides, and so the king said nothing. Thorin was content enough with the fact that his burglar returned from the dragon’s lair unharmed and not unhappy, even if he did not return bearing the Arkenstone.

Although the heart of the mountain was beautiful beyond words, Thorin said to himself many times as they drew closer to the mountain that it was not worth the life of a single member of his company.

He did not know who he sought to convince with his repetition.

Had Thorin not pulled his own grandfather to safety when the madness proved stronger than fear of the dragon? When Smaug had descended upon Erebor, had Thorin not sought to save his kin, while Thror had sought his gold?

Those final moments remained fresh in his memory, even though he had been but a child, not even a third of Kili’s current age. Well did he know that there were coins and gems beyond count in the Halls of Treasure. He had hoped that, perhaps, they would be lucky. Perhaps, seeing the Arkenstone, the dragon might have given to it a place that was easy to see and thus easy to find for their burglar.

Sadly, it seemed that fortune did not aid them in this instance.

Bilbo sat at the center of camp once more, beside the enormous diamond he had returned with the previous night, with a new collection of what he called ‘possible Arkenstones’. It was ridiculous. Had they not said that he would know it when he saw it? 

Still, it was made for good entertainment. The Company gathered around the hobbit when he returned, the youngest among them with wide eyes and eager faces. Thorin thought they looked like so many young pups, wondering if their mother had brought back something good from the hunt.

It was good that the hobbit humored them so. He had a flair for the dramatic, storycrafter as he was. Although he must have been tired, Bilbo made a show of pulling each new candidate from his pack, asking each time if _this_ was the Arkenstone?

Agates, Opals, Ammolites, and Ametrines; they were all pulled out of the pack by small hobbit hands and handed to the oldest member of the Company. They were closely examined by Balin, before he declared grandly that no, this one was not the Arkenstone, to the theatrical groans of the Company. 

Even Thorin could not hold back a laugh at their antics. 

At last, they came to the last stone, an iridescent fist-sized bismuth that Bilbo admitted he knew was _not_ the Arkenstone, for it was not the correct size or shape. The hobbit declared that he had picked it up anyway, because he thought it looked unusual and pretty. 

“And it looks even better up here in the sun!” said Bilbo.

Thorin smiled gently at the hobbit as he showed it to them in the bright morning light, turning it this way and that in wonder. He did not ask if their Master Burglar had found it in the Treasure Hall with all the others. There was no need. Bismuth, Thorin knew, was not a precious or even semi-precious stone or metal. Some dwarrow used it in their water fixtures and plumbing. 

"Sadly, none of these are the Arkenstone, Master Burglar. You may keep them as part of your fourteenth share," Thorin told Bilbo, for he was in an indulgent mood, as was the rest of the Company. 

They were all in high spirits, for his sister-sons had felled a large deer just this morning, and Bombur had found wild onions and herbs nearby. A hearty meal was even now roasting above the fire. All would eat well tonight.

With the show over, the others got up and went about their business, leaving the hobbit to sleep.

"There’s too much treasure," Bilbo complained. Thorin wondered at that, because the dwarrow king thought only Bilbo could say such and mean it. 

“I can’t possibly find the Arkenstone by myself,” continued the hobbit as he returned only the bismuth into his pack, leaving the other gems to rest in a pile beside the large diamond. 

“You will not have to,” Thorin reassured him, “When you return to Erebor this night, you will not return alone.”

“Aye,” Balin agreed, packing his pipe beside the king. “I think we can all agree that you’ve held up your end of the bargain well enough, Bilbo. Consider the terms of your contract fulfilled.”

“That’s a relief,” replied Bilbo, “I did not know how I would steal an Arkenstone if there was no dragon to steal it from,”

With that, Bilbo brought out one last thing from his pack. It was slightly bigger than the diamond, but it must have been lighter, for the hobbit was able to hold it up high for Thorin to see before he set it in his lap.

“I think the dragon must have left, for I made an awful racket looking for those gems. Nearly buried myself in a treasure landslide! And in my searching, I found this as well,” Bilbo said, easy as you please, as if he were not holding in his lap--

“Is that a dragon egg?” Kili was all excitement.

"I think so? What else could lay an egg this big?" replied Bilbo as everyone drew near again, drawn by Kili’s exclamation.

“Are you trying to cook it?” asked Fili, when Bilbo put it in the fire

"No, of course not!” Bilbo sounded like he thought Fili was crazy.

Thorin thought that unfair. How could the hobbit sound like it was Fili who was crazy, when the next words out of his mouth were, “I want to hatch it!"

Knowing an egg left untended would not have survived long, Thorin looked at the dead egg Bilbo had brought with mixed feelings, pragmatism warring with pity. 

On one hand, perhaps it was best that the dragon had perished or left the mountain, even as it left him feeling bereft and without closure. Thorin considered it a fair trade for the lives of his Company; fighting a dragon was foolhardy, fighting a dragon protecting a nest was an unwinnable battle. 

On the other, children were rare for dwarrow, and he could only imagine that the same was true for dragons. Would Middle Earth not otherwise be swarming with the creatures?

Thorin found that, with the safety afforded by distance, he could empathize, even a little bit, with the dragon, and his egg that would never hatch. Watching Bilbo at the fire with his smiling sister-sons, he knew that he, too, would have done anything to provide them with a safe home to which they could return. 

“Is that wise, Master Baggins?” Balin asked, in a way that made it clear that, no it was not wise to attempt hatching something so dangerous.

“Let him be,” declared Thorin, and that was that.

Satisfied that his egg would be safe, Bilbo went to sleep.

* * *

As night approached, the company seemed to split in two. What Thorin liked to think of as the younger half, comprised of Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, and Bombur, tended the fire while Bilbo was asleep,

They were eager to see what a baby dragon would look like. Or maybe eager to see what a dragon egg would taste like, Thorin wasn't completely sure. 

The rest of them, as responsible adults, stood a bit farther away, taking care to keep their voices lowered. 

“You know that is not a dragon egg, it’s not possible,” Glóin was the first to speak, straightforward and to the point.

_//Whatever it was, it’s cooked now//_ signed Bifur. While outsiders who could not understand _iglishmêk_ thought him addled, Thorin had always found his counsel sound, if brisk.

“It's too small to be from that great brute of a dragon. Maybe it's a from a spider that wandered a bit far from Mirkwood,” was Oin’s contribution. Thorin considered it.

“Let the burglar have his bauble,” said Dwalin, surprising Thorin. “After what we’ve put him through, and with Erebor there but for the taking, he could wish to tend to a dozen of those eggs and I’d help him do it.”

“What if it is, though?” Dori was always more superstitious than most.

“I’m more worried that our burglar has become addled, thinking to hatch it. He has no stone sense, after all, he could have taken a tumble. Perhaps he fell and hit his head.” Thorin felt a spike of worry at Balin’s words. Should he have Óin examine their burglar?

“Perhaps he’s going gold mad?” Nori could always be counted upon for an unusual opinion. This one seemed a touch _too_ outlandish until he held something up for the group’s examination. “I found this in his pack,”

“Nori! Shame on you, going through Bilbo's things!” Dori clucked, before asking, “What is it?”

In Nori’s hand was a pouch of gold, clearly made by dwarrow. Thorin looked at it with a sinking heart. Perhaps they should have waited for _Tharkûn_. Could Bilbo have fallen under the gold madness right under Thorin’s nose?

It was a good amount, certainly, but the pouch wasn’t even full. Thorin considered his next words carefully.

“Perhaps he wished to return to Lake Town for more provisions, now that the mountain is ours? You know how hobbits eat,” he said eventually, tone forcibly casual.

Relieved to find a reasonable explanation, the rest seemed to settle. They returned to speculation regarding the egg. In this case, being uncommonly tall served Thorin. His eyes met Dwalin’s and Balin’s in silent understanding. 

Before long, the hobbit awoke of his own accord. After he ate his fill of the deer meat Thorin had set aside for him, it was time again to descend into Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> "History became legend, and legend became myth."
> 
> Since details about Sauron were barely remembered by mortals at the time LotR took place, I think it's safe to say that Bilbo would have no knowledge Morgoth or Sauron anything so far back in time. He doesn’t know the people Smaug is referring to, except that they are Bad and Evil. 
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> Balin is older than Thorin here :P
> 
> NOTE 3
> 
> I wondered why the One Ring was made of gold, when it could be made of mithril, or some other precious metal. 
> 
> So I made up a headcanon where pure gold is like, the most neutral material. So neutral that it absorbs things, like Evil. That's why Sauron chose gold. So he could sink as much of his essence or whatever he wanted into it.
> 
> For example, as gold is neutral, and mithril is strength, silver purifies. So it would be the best material to make an inscribed goblet that would glow if there was poison in it. A ring of silver could be crafted that would make the wearer resistant to poison. 
> 
> (a set of silver spoons with the correct runes might protect you from poison? :P)


	5. The Arrival of the Company

* * *

* * *

_A few days before Durin’s Day_

At the feet of a great stone dwarf, The Company of Thorin Oakenshield made camp. The Desolation offered very little in the way of protection against the cold winds. By the mountainside, at least, they were protected on one side, and that was enough for most of the party to fall into an easy sleep. 

Not all were asleep, though. One hobbit sat a short distance away, smoking a pipe of the bitter leaf that made him miss the small barrel of Old Toby he knew sat waiting for him, in his sitting room in Bag End.

Beside him sat Thorin, who Bilbo knew couldn’t tell Longbottom Leaf from Southlinch, but he was very good company nonetheless, so they sat on second watch together in such peaceful silence that Bilbo was loath to break it.

But break it he must, so break it he did.

* * *

There was, in some ways, always something on Thorin’s mind, not the least of which was their current quest. It seemed to him, though, that their luck was finally turning around, and so the king was not uneasy as rested and kept watch, the hobbit smoking calmly beside him. 

With days to spare, they had found the staircase that Thorin felt sure could only lead to that which they sought; a secret entrance to Thorin’s homeland.

There were, of course, many entrances into Erebor. Though the dragon might have blocked some, if not most of them, it was a vast kingdom, larger than Esgaroth and Dale put together. Though the main gates were barred, the mountain was riddled with tunnels, and Thorin had no doubt that they could find, at the very least, a half collapsed entryway that led to the outskirts of one of Erebor’s cities.

The difference was that the secret door which they looked for now was a door known only to heirs of Durin, and they led to many places. Not the least among those places were the halls and chambers reserved for the Royal Family. More to the point, the secret entrance opened very close to the Halls of Treasure, and that was where they needed to go. Any other entrance would be pointless to find, for even if the dragon did not know of it, a far entrance would have their burglar traipse through half the kingdom to find the halls Thrór had built for his treasure, possibly informing Smaug of his presence in doing so.

As if alerted by the turn of Thorin’s thoughts, the king’s companion now stirred beside him, clearing his throat and reaching into his pocket as he spoke. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo began, and something in the tone of his voice made Thorin sit up straighter, for it held the weight of something important.

“If I don’t make it back out alive, I want you to have this,” 

In Thorin’s silence, now stunned instead of comfortable, Bilbo brought up a hand and opened it to reveal the item that Thorin knew sat in the hobbit's pocket at all times.

“I know it’s a poor prize to have, against the gold of Erebor, but I want you to have something for all your trouble, if the dragon is still in there, and you must wait a while longer to reclaim your home. If things go wrong, it will be something to remember our journey by, at least,”

 _‘And remember me,’_ was left unsaid.

Thorin looked at the golden ring in Bilbo’s upturned palm, offered to him freely and without malice or ill-will. The dwarf knew well what it could do. In the peace of Beorn’s gardens, as Thorin had healed from his injuries, Bilbo had lounged by his side, keeping him company, and they had spoken of many things.

It was on one such sun-filled afternoon, when the deep, dark caves of the Goblins seemed so far away, that Bilbo had told him of the creature that, even now, must be living in the lake beneath the Misty Mountains. 

It had seemed such a trifle, back then. Rings of such nature were not common, exactly, but they had seemed to Thorin available enough to those who had the right materials, the coin to pay for them, and a craftsman to make them.

Thorin himself had made such items. He had made many in fact, in the Wandering days of Durin’s Folk. Many nobles in the cities of Men had been eager enough to have a trinket that they could boast as having been made by a wandering Dwarf Prince, and Thorin had needed the coin so badly, to feed the bellies of his people growing thin, that he’d been almost happy to find such work. 

Out there, scattered across Middle Earth, were dozens of such things forged by Thorin’s own hand. He’d never been so grateful for his deft touch at creating the right runes to invoke the metal to magic.

He did not have the coin to make anything extravagant, nor the inclination, so what he crafted was more clever than impressive, but the Men who bought them had seemed well-pleased with Thorin's work. The then-prince of Erebor had made necklaces that granted a hardier constitution, rings that made the wearer's hand impervious to weak flame, and other such trinkets for everyday use. He’d made hair ornaments that kept hair ever-untangled, fishing lures that captured all manner of fish, and even clasps for cloaks that would keep the wearer dry no matter the pouring rain. 

Thorin was no stranger to magical items, and though Bilbo’s ring of invisibility was one Thorin had not yet seen before, he was not over curious about it, and indeed had not thought about it much. He knew nothing about it, save that his friend was very fond of it. A trophy, perhaps, of a time when, with the aid of naught but his wits and his then yet-unnamed letter opener (“It’s a sword,” Bilbo had insisted, and Thorin only laughed in reply), he’d proven himself as someone who could and would survive. 

If the ring had been naught but a curious bauble to him in the past, a useful tool for a beloved burglar, the simple golden ring called now to Thorin like nothing before ever had. He wanted it so badly, he was struck by the fierceness of his desire.

To have something of Bilbo, and something so _precious_ , when he could very well be heading off for his doom—

But then Bilbo’s arm wavered, and Thorin steadied it without thought, cupping his hand beneath the hobbit’s smaller one, so warm and soft despite the chilly night air. It was then that Thorin found the core of himself, and he knew, he could not give in to the gold madness. Not without a fight.

It was said that you could boil a frog alive, should you bring the heat up but slowly enough. Seeing the golden ring, and feeling that burning longing for it as Thorin did, was like being doused with scalding hot water, and so he found the wherewithal within himself to withdraw. 

Thorin pulled away quickly, as if he risked his arm coming back without his hand if he didn't move fast enough. Bilbo recoiled in reaction, one hand clutching the ring to his chest as he fell back, startled by Thorin’s vehement refusal. The other was thrown haphazardly behind himself, to keep from toppling over. Thorin could see on his face that many thoughts raced through his mind. Bilbo must have settled on one, and before Thorin could do anything else, he was stammering out an apology.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I did not mean—“ 

“Peace, Master Burglar,” said Thorin. He held up a hand to refuse the apology. 

The hobbit flinched a bit at the sudden formal title, likely thinking he had caused offense and unpleasant memories from Rivendell to resurface, so Thorin continued even more gently. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, as he took that dear hand again, this time in both of his own, keeping the cursed gold out of his sight and waiting until the hobbit could meet his eyes.

“I cannot take this ring. I ask that you keep it instead, and keep it close, that it may keep you safe. I do not need it in my hand to remind me of your bravery, for there is little enough about you that does not enter my mind every day.”

As Thorin spoke, Bilbo’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and Thorin would have guessed that his were no better. 

He went on.

“I prefer the ring in your hands, _ghivashel_ , that it may remind you to come back to me, for the purpose it serves and the one who wears it are even more precious in my eyes, and for this I would not exchange this one ring for all the gold in Erebor.”

* * *

* * *

_Present_

Though he would have liked nothing better than to rest by Bilbo’s side, Thorin knew that his time would be better served preparing himself to face the dragon’s hoard, for truly, he had come to fear the treasure almost as much as the dragon itself. 

There was little enough to be done that the king did not feel amiss in taking some time to think. He blew smoke rings in the last light of the setting sun and centered himself.

Not long after the sun had gone below the horizon, did Bilbo rise to greet the night. There was no need now to keep to the darkness, with the kingdom apparently empty of dragon, but Thorin had not survived long by being foolishly without caution. 

It was caution that bade Thorin to keep Bilbo close (no matter what the smiling eyes of his sister-sons had to say) as they journeyed down into the mountain. The matter of the gold coins, and Bilbo's strange behavior with the dragon egg was quite likely nothing. Thorin saw monsters of gold lust everywhere, when it was his own that he struggled to guard against. 

They had not even made it past the first staircase, and Thorin was already sorry he’d ever doubted the hobbit for keeping the coins upon his person. While they had been wondering if Bilbo had fallen under gold madness, that the gold had led him astray as it had the late King Thrór, Bilbo had used the gold to help them find their way. He had laid them on the ground like so many breadcrumbs, in simple patterns that he was happy to show them how to read. This was how he brought them quickly to where he'd been the past two nights.

Truly, the hobbit knew that the value of gold was not the gold itself, but what it could do. And this case, lacking in stone sense as he was, what Bilbo had done with the gold was use it return to the company, to Thorin, and for that the king was grateful.

Thorin clung to these thoughts now, and they helped anchor him, for the mountain of treasure before him would have been enough to tempt the most virtuous of dwarrow.

There was more than gold here, Thorin knew. In a way, this treasure hoard was the culture and the history of his people wrought into metal, a showcase of their skill and their devotion to the development of their craft.

Even so, there was something seductive about the gold material itself, even as Thorin turned away from it. 

To ease his troubled mind, Thorin pulled his focus to Bilbo. Bilbo, who had not run into the treasure like the much of the rest of his company. Indeed, the only dwarrow who had not made for the treasure were Balin and Dwalin, which was good, for they counseled him in all things, and to have them fall under the gold madness, no matter how fleeting or benign, would have been a blow to Thorin.

Beside the three dwarrow, the hobbit remained, coming to a stop to stand at Thorin's side The look upon his face was a familiar one, one Thorin had seen the past two nights.

 _Do you like it?_ the look upon his face seemed to ask. _Did I do well? Are you pleased with what I have brought you?_

Thorin pulled Bilbo into a tight hug, overcome with an emotion he could not name.

“Well Done, Master Hobbit,” said Thorin, and he did not mean the treasure, really, but all of it, their entire journey, and now they were here, in the home Thorin had thought lost.

When they separated, however, the expression on Bilbo’s face was replaced with one Thorin could not place, but didn't like one bit.

“Don't worry, Thorin. I will find the Arkenstone for you, no matter what.”

The declaration startled Thorin, for he had quite forgotten about the Arkenstone. There was no need for it now. No longer did Thorin require the command of armies to march upon the dragon. Smaug was far away, and Thorin had only to call for his people, that they might come home.

“No, Bilbo—,” Thorin started, a sinking feeling deep in his chest.

But Bilbo was already gone, striding into the treasure. He cut a different figure from the others, more purposeful than playful.

Fili and Kili were pelting each other with gold coins. The Ur brothers were singing and dancing, having put on all that was wearable that they could find. Even the ever serious Gloin did naught but stand there, looking like he was attempting to do sums in his head, but was failing happily.

Indeed, his Company was making so much noise that Thorin felt as if the elves in Mirkwood would be able to hear them. If there was any doubt in Thorin's mind as to the absence of Smaug, they were removed by the loud exhuberance in front of him.

If only the dragon's absence solved all his worries.

Remaining at the edge of the gold, Thorin’s eyes followed the hobbit, then met the eyes of his advisors once more in silent understanding.

They had heard Bilbo's strange declaration as well, and would help Thorin keep a careful watch over their burglar.

* * *

When the company tired of playing in the treasure like smooth-chinned young dwarrow, there was much work to be done. As the king's right hand, Dwalin played his part well. Though it was like herding cats, he managed to get everyone through the many passageways of Erebor to the Main Gates. They were sealed, yes, but only from the outside.

For their great size, the gates were so well-balanced that to open, they only required two to a door. Dwalin felt pride at the craftsmanship when the gates swung open without any trouble. Once again, the skill of dwarrow had withstood the test of time. 

For the time being, they stayed at the gate's guard quarters, which had been kept tidy with army discipline and precision. The straw and wool beds intended for the use of soldiers had long since turned to dust, and had needed to be dragged outside and discarded, but the wooden pallet beneath them were still sturdy enough to sleep on, and were more forgiving than the stone beneath their feet.

Some in the company were not happy with the decision for them to rest here for the time being. Some, meaning Kili, had some fool idea that the Royal Quarters would be habitable, somehow, and that they could move right in.

Dwalin thought it foolish, but heartwarming all the same, that the young prince who’d never before set foot in Erebor was so ready to make it a home.

It was cold in the mountain without the great forges to warm the stone, so they made a fire in the mess hall fireplace with what they could find. There was no shortage of broken furniture in the wake of the people’s speedy exodus all those years ago, after all. There was no time to hunt or forage outside, but the deer from yesterday, some of it salted or smoked for preservation, paired well enough with the cram they had, and so they all had full bellies before long.

Dwalin did not fail to notice that Bilbo's egg from yesterday soon found its way into the fire again. Truly, it was a fool idea, and impossible besides. But then again, those words seemed to describe the Butgkar himself well enough that the dwarf let it be for now.

The guard quarters were adequate, just as Dwalin remembered, and had space enough for the entire company to gather in the small mess hall attached to it. There were enough rooms for all to have one to themselves, but they found that no one cared to be alone this night. Though they left the gate open to allow clean air into the hallways once more, the walls seemed to close in, ever so slightly. 

That was unusual, for Durin’s Folk were accustomed to the close quarters of mountain living. Or so Dwalin had thought. Perhaps the quest, and sleeping beneath the open sky for so long, had upturned his senses.

In a way, Dwalin was reminded of the time they spent as guests in Rivendell. Although this was their kingdom, their home, they were strangers to it now. Half had only stories of Erebor, and the other had just their hazy memories.

For sure, Dwalin felt a stranger. He could not become comfortable, for it was quiet in a way that grated. The Erebor he had known in his youth had never slept, and it was never quiet. 

Even so, Dwalin felt a peace settle in his old bones. Tomorrow, he would make his way to the aviary, to see if the Ravens made their home there once more. If there were ravens left, Thorin could send word to the Blue Mountains, to Ered Luin, to tell the wandering people of Durin that it was time to stop wandering.

* * *

The first night in the Erebor was not a comfortable one, but then, Balin did not think it would be.

It was far from the worst night they had spent during their quest, and it was a small price to pay to be inside the Kingdom Under the Mountain once more.

He'd expected a feeling of triumph at reclaiming Erebor, but instead he was filled with a strange sort of melancholy.

He had not really believed that they could do it, and Balin had not been alone in this. Oh, of course the younger ones, Fili and Kili, Balin imagined that they'd had very little doubt in their hearts. They likely thought that their uncle could have banished the dragon in single combat, with both hands tied behind his back.

Balin both wished that he had as much faith, and grateful that he was no longer so young and foolish.

He had seen in his minds eye hundreds of different ways that they might fail, that the Company might perish in the attempt. But, the Valar willing, not a single one of them had come to pass.

Instead, the Company now stood in the Kindom Under the Mountain, greatest home of the dwarrow save for _Khazad-dûm_.

In the Halls of Treasure, Balin had looked to his king, hoping to share the momentous occasion, but found that Thorin had eyes only for the hobbit by his side, metal gold spurned for the locks of browner gold on their burglar’s head.

Balin couldn't begrudge him the distraction.

At the beginning of their quest, Balin would have found it impossible to believe that the single minded intensity of Thorin, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór, also called Oakenshield, would give way.

It had been inconceivable that anything would change that scorching inner fire to reclaim Erebor into a kinder flame, warmer, seeking the softer things that made life worth living.

Having spent the better part of a year at Thorin’s side, Balin knew better now, how heavy was living with such a burden.

Balin was happy for him, to have found someone to share the weight.

* * *

In a series of caverns deep inside the mountain, Smaug rested, but fitfully. He was unsettled by the presence of so many living dwarves, having made his peace with the dead ones scattered here and there. They had died long before the veil of madness had lifted from Smaug's eyes.

Thirteen living dwarves, Smaug counted, sensing that muted energy that belonged to all dwarves. There was a spark in them yet, that Men lacked. Smaug liked to think it was there by Aulë's own hand.

Perhaps he was growing maudlin, or Bilbo's endless talk of nothing but praise for them was getting to him,

Oh, but Smaug really did quite like dwarves, in his own way. Or at least, he bore them less ill will than the other creatures that lived in Middle Earth. 

The dragon was not shy to admit that his extremely limited not-quite-fondness for them was rooted in what he knew _of_ them, in living inside a mountain they had designed for themselves, and not in any first-hand experience with their kind. 

Limited and destroyed as their culture was after the War of Wrath, dragons _did_ have their own share of knowledge and lore. Smaug, young in their kind, and untutored besides, knew very little compared to the old sages of the Withered Heath. it was from the few and far in between encounters with others of their kind that Smaug knew, as dragons and ents (and now hobbits!) were of Yavanna, The Queen of the Earth, the dwarves were of The Smith.

As The Smith, Aulë's strength was in the construction of new things, and as such, he was an opponent of The Elder King, the Black Enemy of The World, who did not create, only destroyed and corrupted. This was not the least, but also not the only reason, that Smaug preferred the dwarves to the Men, and the Elves, and what other beings perhaps dwelt in Arda with or without the dragon's knowledge.

Hobbits were very much his favorite now.

Smaug sighed and reached out with his magic, sensing that the hobbit was in the mountain, nesting with the dwarves, a single robin among ravens. 

He was probably asleep, and soon after, Smaug did the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1 
> 
> Should I tag this as established relationship? I mean, there’s something _there_ , even if they’re not quite there yet. 
> 
> Like, I don’t know, it’s a mutual understanding? I don’t know how to explain it, except as that stage where you’re both sort of, I know you like me, maybe even like like me, but do you like like _like_ me?
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> If I have it correctly, I think Thorin needed the Arkenstone in the movies so that he could command the dwarf armies to attack the dragon Smaug. Right?
> 
> Without Smaug, the Arkenstone becomes something that’s nice to have, like the White Gems of Lasgalen, but not necessary for Thorin to rule.


	6. Exploring Erebor, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin worries and Fili thinks

The day after the treasure had been found, and the Lonely Mountain claimed for Durin's Folk once more, Thorin vowed to keep a watchful eye on himself. He knew that Balin and Dwalin did as well; a lifetime together had rendered them quite transparent to each other. Thorin hoped that they were as ruthless in their examination of him as Thorin himself, for a goldsick king was worse than none at all.

It seemed to Thorin that he had hardly put his head down to rest, and he was up again already. It had been a short time in truth, for none of the others seemed to be awake. Dawn must not have come yet, though this was a guess on Thorin’s part.

For all that dwarrow lived under the mountain, they still used the sun to keep time. Sunlight had found a way deep into the kingdom through dwarven ingenuity. Thorin wondered if the great mirrors that brought light deep into the tunnels were still intact. Though they did not reach all places, they lit some areas well enough, and it was on this light that Thorin used to rely upon in his youth.

No matter. Like the rest of Erebor, they would be returned to their former glory.

Instead of making another attempt at sleep, Thorin quietly made his way back to the Halls of Treasure. It was as large as he remembered it, a veritable sea of riches. In gazing at it, the contracts of the Company seemed frivolous now. Or at least, the parts in their contract concerning their monetary rewards, for how would you partition a treasure so vast into fourteen equal shares? They might all very well die of old age before each piece of the treasure could be accounted for, never mind measured for value and divided amongst themselves.

Thorin resolved to himself that he would leave the matter to Balin and Glóin, who had skill for such things, and turned his focus instead on the gold itself. If he was to fall under the same spell of gold madness as his grandfather before him, it would be best to do it now, while none yet were present to suffer for Thorin's weakness.

However, Thorin did not feel the pull of the gold. Certainly not the same way Bilbo's trinket had called to him. He still shuddered to remember it now, the way it felt as if the ring was all that was good in the world, and Thorin the only one who could keep it safe.

In truth, at the moment, Thorin felt less drawn by the gold right now then he ever had been before. For all that its presence meant that none in his kingdom would grow hungry again, he resented it now for the worry it gave him, in making him doubt his own sanity. What was supposed to be a moment of triumph was reduced to one of vague fear, that the very prize he’d reclaimed for his people would be his undoing.

And it was not just his sanity at stake, but possibly his burglar's as well, particularly concerning the Arkenstone for the latter. Why Bilbo seemed to have fixated on finding a gem he had never even seen, and could not even identify, Thorin did not know, but he blamed the treasure for it all the same. He was half-convinced that the dragon, gone though it was, had left a curse upon it.

Thorin stayed in the hall for as long as he dared, seated upon the treasure the same way he imagine that Smaug had done when the treasure had been the dragon’s hoard. But even as Thorin sat, he knew that there was much work to be done, and he could not spend his time waiting for the gold sickness to strike. There was a surety now in the tasks that were before him, so different from their uncertain quest, and he fairly itched to accomplish all that he could before the day was over. 

When he left the gold, Thorin was not surprised to see Dwalin waiting for him at the exit, eyes losing their wariness as they met a clear gaze. The gold sickness may yet take the current King Under the Mountain, but today was not that day.

The two of them made their way back to where the Company was staying for the time being, a comfortable silence between them. It seemed that they were just in time to return for breakfast, the company seated at one of the long tables, helping themselves to whatever food they had left. It was not much, and Thorin wondered how much of the gold in the dragon's horde they would trade right now for a plate of eggs, still warm from the pan. A plate of spiced sausages, and with mashed potatoes to match. With such a repast, he would even deign to eat the unwanted green food that Bilbo insisted on forcing upon the company whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Where were you?" Bilbo asked as Thorin took his seat at the head of the table.

There was a time when Thorin would not have accepted inquiries into his private affairs so graciously. In truth, he would not have accepted them _now_ , had the inquiry been made by anyone else. But the question had been asked in such a guileless manner, and Thorin could hear the underlying worry of _Did you get any sleep at all?_ beneath it. So Thorin responded with as much grace as could be mustered before breakfast.

"I was thinking of what needed most to be done," Thorin began, and was interrupted by the rest of the company, for they all had their own opinions, and the king was soon distracted.

Thorin observed his Company carefully. As he did so, he concluded that none seemed unduly affected by the treasure, despite their behavior last night. Fili, his heir, was more taken with the architecture and engineering of Erebor, which was as Thorin hoped. The first thing the Crown Prince declared that he wanted to do was inspect the _plumbing_ , as it were.

It made Thorin smile, which he hid by taking a sip of water from his waterskin. If he found humor in his heir playing plumber, he kept it to himself. He wondered if cleanliness or vanity was the culprit there.

_‘It’s not a bad idea, though,’_ thought Thorin.

To everyone's surprise and pleasure, they had found last night that some of Erebor's great aqueducts still worked, the ones that had been built around natural springs. Thorin had seen and heard water flowing through the rills that lined the streets of Erebor, and felt more under their feet using his stonesense. Less certain were they of the buried waterways, the ones that used the extensive pipe system of the mountain, but Thorin was hopeful that these structures too were not damaged. And although water still flowed from the pipes, Fili told the company that he wanted to check the purification runes around them before anyone was allowed to drink from faucets and fountains.

Kili had also already similarly lost interest in the gold. Thorin thought with great fondness that Kili's love for shiny things had been very quickly overshadowed by his love of mischief. More so than Fili, he expressed that he wanted to see every nook and cranny of Erebor, and since Thorin knew that the younger prince would not get the chance once their people started coming back to occupy the mountain, he allowed it.

As for Glóin and Nori, they took their meager breakfast to heart, although Thorin was sure they'd had less to eat, and of worse quality, on the journey here. The two dwarrow made plans to get more supplies from Esgaroth, intending to set out as soon as possible. Thorin gave them a fat purse of coins for their expenses. He had picked up the coins from the treasury intending a different recipient, but no matter. Thorin could fetch more coins later. If not, Bilbo knew where the treasure was if he needed more coins for dropping upon his path. 

Having given the money, Thorin left Glóin and Nori to wonder amongst themselves if the Men of the Lake owned ponies, and if the animals could be persuaded to board a boat. Surely, a boat would be how they got to the Lake Town in the first place, if they were there at all?

Thorin just shook his head and moved on.

Balin was planning on searching the aviary for ravens and writing formal letters to their kin. He was to be kept company by Ori, who seemed excited for the chance to sit down and document their journey properly, now that it seemed as if the quest were coming to an end. To Thorin's opinion, it was an ending long coming, and one he found very favorable.

Thorin had written a few letters himself while the company was in Lake Town, many in the company did. They were letters of the more personal variety to friends and family, and were given to Balin for safekeeping, to be sent as soon as the opportunity arose.

Bombur was set on cleaning the small kitchen of the guard quarters from top to bottom. Although Glóin and Nori were not to return for at least a week, given the distance between Erebor and Esgaroth, Thorin heard him tell Bilbo that he wanted to cook something special for the everyone as some sort of celebration.

Thorin thought it was a fine idea.

The round dwarf then asked Ori for a page of his journal and a quill. Once obtained, he began writing at once, a list for Nori and Glóin of what to get from the market. When he'd been writing for a while, and showed no signs of stopping, Thorin wondered if Gloin and Nori could carry it all, and if perhaps their desire for ponies were necessary after all.

Bifur, Thorin was informed, was taking the initiative to hunt in nearby. If he made good time and game was plentiful at the edge of Mirkwood, he would be back before nightfall. Bifur did not plan to go alone, for he was to be accompanied by Oin, who wanted more herbs for medicine, and Dori, who wanted to help carry back what they obtained.

Thorin himself found that he was soon hard at work repairing what he could. He started with what he deemed most essential. Although the water was a pressing matter, he had decided that light was even more so. Never mind that the eyes of dwarrow were well-suited to dim light, and that repairing the light fixtures would mostly benefit one member of the Company in particular.

There were many lamps along the hallways, although the ones that remained functional, or could be restored by a single dwarf were few and far in between. These, Thorin worked on, along with Bofur. The dwarf who had been a miner before he became a toymaker, was more familiar than Thorin with the lamps, and they worked together in order for the devices to bring light once more.

They were all busy after breakfast, even Bilbo. Thorin was strongly reminded of the hobbit he’d found in the shire, who seemed to do so much while doing nothing at all. The king cast his mind back for memories of Bilbo's hobbit hole, pleased to find the memories clear as day.

It had not escaped Thorin’s notice then that, knowing how his company ate, there was still food left for him. Since he had heard their ridiculous cleaning song from the door, he knew that the only way there would be food left for him was if someone had _purposely_ set some aside for him.

It would be many weeks on the road before Thorin realized that this _someone_ had been Bilbo. The hobbit, after seeing Dwalin demolish his first dinner, had set aside some food for himself.

Then, he had turned around and given it to Thorin, even after the dwarf had insulted him in his own home.

Now, Bilbo did it again, doing small things that spoke of great affection, bringing water and inkwells and whatever else he could find, where they were needed. Thorin hoped that the hobbit soon forgot about the Arkenstone, and the strange declaration he'd made the night before.

* * *

Fili was home.

Over the next few days, the Company explored Erebor and made themselves comfortable in the guard's quarters. After the initial awe at the treasure— which, really, was every bit as unreasonably big as Bilbo had described it— Fili had not given the famed riches of Erebor much thought.

Fili had believed that the hobbit was exaggerating, before they entered the mountain and saw for themselves. But if anything, their hobbit had _understated_ the scale of it. In the end though, Fili did not find the treasure as compelling as he felt he should have.

As far as the dwarf was concerned, the riches of Erebor was not in the Halls of Treasure. To Fili, Erebor's riches was the kingdom itself. The city was magnificent, although, to call it a city seemed to do Erebor an injustice, for Fili was quite sure that there were at least several cities here under the mountain, united into one kingdom.

To say it was vast was more of an understatement than Bilbo saying that there was a lot of treasure. The prince felt that he could perhaps spend years here and be unable to walk down every path and passageway.

Still, Fili felt at home in Erebor, at least as much as in cozy Ered Luin, the stone of the mountain soothing to his senses the same way he imagined Imladris soothed elves. The only things the Lonely Mountain lacked were the trappings of home, his _amad_ , and his friends. And with the mountain reclaimed, those would arrive soon enough. It was then, Fili thought, that his contentment would be complete.

Really, his mood was much changed from what it had been mere days ago. Fili had been worried, when his uncle had declined to wait for _Tharkûn._ Although the wizard had declined to share how many dragons he'd killed in his life, Fili had thought that facing a dragon with a wizard by your side was extremely preferable to facing a dragon without one, whatever that number might have been.

In the end, though, it turned all right. The dragon was dead or gone when the Company arrived, which suited Fili just fine. He knew Kili had been entertaining some idea of slaying the dragon, to become a great hero like their uncle, but really, Fili thought they were several decades too late for that. Their Uncle Thorin had already been King for decades when he had been Fili's current age. 

And in this, Fili was in no hurry to emulate his uncle. Long live the king, emphasis on the _long_ , and may he keep Fili away from the throne for many decades to come.

It was starting to sink in, that their uncle was a king, now no less than King Under the Mountain. It had been easy to forget, on the road. On their journey, he had been only Uncle Thorin. They ate the same stale food, slept on the same hard ground, and kept warm at the same fire. Here in the mountain, he became King Thorin II, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór again.

Already, he was attending to his kingly correspondence, and for the time that the prince could get away with doing so, Fili wanted no part of it.

Dwalin had gone searching with Uncle Balin in the aviaries, and found ravens still nesting there. They must have escaped the notice of the dragon when he lived here. By Thorin’s leave, Balin and Dwalin had sent ravens informing the wandering folk that their home was reclaimed.

Thorin had confided in Fili that he expected trouble from the Elves, though. It was not unlikely, Fili had agreed. The Company had escaped from King Thranduil, who might make mischief in the mountain before it could be properly settled. It was for this reason that Thorin sent for help to Dáin as well. A battalion or two would be a suitable deterrent, they thought. It would not be worth it to the King of Mirkwood to make trouble.  


While waiting for reinforcements from the the Iron Hills, the Company preoccupied themselves with making things somewhat presentable for the new arrivals. It was strange to Fili, but most of the damage he found seemed to have been wrought by time, not dragon claws or fire. Still, he did not look for misaligned facets in a gifted gem. 

Even Bilbo was helping, or attempting to, which Fili thought hilarious, for he could not lift anything heavy, or tell which stones were stable or not. Ah, but it was heartwarming all the same! Contract fulfilled, the hobbit who missed his home could have gone back to his hobbit hole, and it would have been within his rights to send for his share of the treasure at a later date. 

Instead, he swept and cooked and wandered the kingdom as Kili did, returning with odds and ends that he deemed would be useful to the various members of the company. Fili did not know where Bilbo found these items, and he did not think to ask.

In gratitude (although Fili _strongly_ suspected other feelings as well), Uncle Thorin had been spending much of the next few days wandering the halls and bringing light where he could by repairing lamps.

It was really too bad that only a few of the Great Mirrors of Erebor, which Fili had read about in his youth, were still functioning.

Due to their complexity and cost, they had not been fit to recreate in the Blue Mountains, and they could not be repaired at the present time. So the focus was in repairing the lamp crystals that lit the hallways. This, Fili was sure, Uncle Thorin did in order to keep their hobbit safe in his wanderings.

And wander Bilbo did! Members of the Company were forever finding gold coins set carefully upon the floor. The dwarrow had learned to leave them be, as the hobbit apparently left them like breadcrumbs to mark his way, having no stonesense to guide him.

Imagine!

Escorting merchants from Ered Luin to the Iron Hills would have earned perhaps half a hundred gold crowns, if the the merchants were wealthy and generous with their coin. But here was their burglar, using them like pennies.

Now that they were no longer in the wilderness, Bilbo had seemed to let down his guard again. Fili was reminded of the hobbit who had allowed thirteen dwarrow that he did not know at all into his home, and allowed them to pick his pantry clean.

Allow was maybe the wrong word, because the dwarf vaguely remembered Bilbo telling him to put things back the entire time, but then, the hobbit had not thrown the lot of them out on their uninvited asses either.

Perhaps it was a hobbit thing, to perceive being indoors be the ultimate sign of safety. Even so, Fili thought the hobbit took it too far. There was relaxed, and then there was whatever Bilbo was doing, which included wandering around the Erebor without so much as a knife upon his person, his letter opener forgotten in his pack.

Fili felt quite naked at the idea of being so weaponless.

It was this situation with Bilbo that led them to today. Ostensibly, Fili and Kili were searching for the main water source of the aqueducts in their area of the mountain, so that Fili might inspect their purification runes.

In reality, he and Kili were not so much searching for aqueducts as they were stomping around the mountain, hoping to attract trouble, which was what they did best.

There was reason for it, of course. Uncle Thorin had told them that, with no dragon, it was possible that any number of foul and fell creatures could have made their home in Erebor. Unspoken was the fact their their uncle feared that such creatures would attack one particularly small and defenseless member of their company. 

And so, Fili and Kili had been tasked to clear the way. It was easy enough work, and Fili appreciated the opportunity to get to know what would be his new home. So far, the two of them had found no more than rats, bats, and other small animals; nothing that posed any danger.

Sensing no threat, Fili and Kili had separated after a while. Despite what many people seemed to think, the brothers were not actually joined at the hip, and with Kili gone, Fili felt free to stop and appreciate what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Kili had no patience for 'rock ogling', as he called it when Fili stopped to admire the ingenious architecture of the dwarrow who had built Erebor.

Like a magpie, his brother was, no patience and in love with shiny glittery things. Fili could only thank Mahâl that it was a benign love, not the sickness of their lineage, for Kili did not seem to care for the value of craft in money, though he knew it well enough and better than most. In private, Fili had seen Kili eschew gold for copper, exchange diamonds for quartz, only seeking what beauty he could create with it.

If Kili found his Craft in metal and jewels, Fili’s was with stone. A simple material, but noble, in Fili’s eyes, for it kept all dwarrow safe. 

He had pages upon pages of designs back in Ered Luin. Fanciful bridges and stately towers, structures he could build only in his mind. On paper, he allowed himself the freedom to make great mansions, while he and his family lived in a modest household, no longer destitute, but with many trappings of royalty stripped away.

Ah, but even his grandest daydreams couldn’t compete with the Kingdom Under the mountain!

_Felakgundu,_ Fili was called in the Blue Mountains. _Cave-hewer_ , the title given to all those with skill in lighter stone-carving, although he had more ambition than that, for Fili did not just want to restore Erebor, but to improve it!

_'Alas_ ,' Fili thought, _'On_ _e thing at a time,'_

He would consider himself fortunate if he found those _blasted_ purification stones before the reinforcements from the Iron Hills arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> okay, I don't know how many people noticed, but I typically go back and revise a newly posted chapter a lot in the next few days after I post it. 
> 
> This is because I usually don't have a beta, and I want to correct a bunch of stuff. I usually don't change anything too important, but if you reread something and you think there's something you didn't see before, you might be right.
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> Fili, Kili, and some of the younger dwarves don’t actually have memories of the hardest times of Durin’s Folk. Yes, when they were first exiled, Thorin worked as a blacksmith, but the Blue Mountain was well settled by the time the younger dwarves were born.
> 
> Note 3
> 
> The stuff about FIli's craft is from here  
> https://folk.uib.no/hnohf/khuzdul.htm
> 
> Note 4 
> 
> How is this so long and almost no one talks the entire chapter??


	7. Exploring Erebor, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kili is more like Thorin than he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude

While Fili was off making doe-eyes at the buildings around them, Kili was on a mission of his own for today. One that the younger brother considered to be of greater importance than the errand their uncle had set them upon, and the errand Fili had set upon himself. Aqueducts, architecture, yes yes, all well and good, but the dwarf nonetheless kept his eyes peeled for something other than that. 

What Kili needed at the moment was a glowstone. Rare enough that they weren’t to be found lying around just anywhere, but not so rare that they were kept in the Halls of Treasure with the gold and gems, glowstones were a different type of mineral from quartz in the lamps that Uncle and Bofur were fixing, though they sometimes looked very similar. In their raw form, glowstones didn't emit quite as much light. However, and this was the key, they didn't need any fancy work to do what Kili wanted them to do. Glowstones just needed the simplest runes for invocation: say _Manan_ to make it glow, _Hurun_ to make it stop.

Kili journeyed vaguely downward through the empty halls, stopping when he found interesting things, but never forgetting his purpose. It was all just so new! The Blue mountains wasn’t nearly so interesting, for Kili had seen every nook and cranny of it, or at least felt that way. The Lonely Mountain was much different to him, such a cool stone to his senses, not rough and warm like Ered Luin. 

Eventually, he found his way down to the mines. Not the deep ones, as Kili was not nearly foolish enough to wander there alone and perish. Here, he found a suitable glowstone. He found a whole pile of them, actually, but only took the one he found most pleasing to the eye. Later, he would think that maybe he should have widened his search and gone down deeper after all, but right now he was too happy to consider what he could have done differently.

A glowstone! The young dwarf held it in is hands with glee. He'd been searching for one to give to Bilbo all day! Kili, with the eyes and stonesense of a dwarf, had almost come to harm many times. How much more dangerous must it be for their hobbit, who could not see in the dark like dwarrow could, and had no stonesense to speak of.

Yes, a glowstone would serve him well in the places where Uncle could not yet bring light.

Kili had found some time ago that he liked doing things for Bilbo. Little favors here and there. And while being far from the kingdom that was their birthright changed many things, it did not change the fact that princes often did as they liked.

It was nothing, really. He did small things of no consequence, and it had mostly started because he had felt very guilty for the incident with the trolls. Well-intentioned though the brothers had been, they had still put their burglar in danger. They had been extra nice to him in the following days, but Kili had continued long after the guilt had worn off.

It was a secret, but he did these things in part because Bilbo always appreciated his company. Some of the other dwarrow grew tired of his energy, Kili knew, but Bilbo never seemed to. The hobbit was always good for a joke or a story or a walk in the woods to expend some of Kili's restlessness.

Kili thought that you could hardly ask for a better friend than one who always seemed happy to see you.

Back in Ered Luin, you see, Kili had been a homely dwarf. All in the main branch of the royal family were, as they were all too tall and too slender to be considered attractive among dwarrow. Kili thought he was particularly hideous, though he bore it with good humor.

The young prince in particular had been subject to much teasing as a child, for all that he was technically royalty. Or maybe because it, Kili didn't rightly know. Not only that, but Kili's choice to use a bow and arrow in battle did little to endear him to many, being too reminiscent of the hated elves. Time had dulled the sting of youthful teasing, of course, but it had not been fun in his childhood, and the beardlessness remained a sore point. Kili often did not bother with braids in his hair, to better maintain that looks were simply something that he did not care much about, and that his time was better spent on things that were not so shallow in nature. 

Perhaps it was only because he was not a dwarf himself, but Bilbo did not seem to mind Kili's face or manner. It had been a breath of fresh air to have him in the company. Many dwarrow seemed to need a bit of time to become accustomed to Kili's lack of facial hair and excitable nature, but Bilbo didn’t even seem to notice, and treated Kili no differently than he did the others. 

As Bilbo had accepted him, Kili in turn tried to do the same for the hobbit. This business with the glowstone was only the latest in a string of efforts that the young dwarf had made to that end. 

Having found what he needed in the mines, Kili ascended, returning to the upper levels of Erebor, this time on the lookout for the other things he might find useful in order to complete his little present. 

(It was only later that he would remember that he had been told to look for aqueducts and predators. He'd found neither, hoped that there weren’t any of the latter, and considered it even luck on his part.)

Back in the guardroom he currently shared as a bedroom with his brother, Kili set the glowstone upon a piece of wood, using bits and pieces of soft metals he had found, bending them with his bare hands to put them into the shape and form he saw in his mind.

Once he was sure that the stone would not be removed from the staff, even if he were to swing it with moderate strength against the stone floor, he began to carve. The runes he made on the wood were... functional, but only just. Given that he only had the tip of a dagger to work with, he thought it was pretty good, and satisfied himself with the thought that he would make a better one once he found proper tools.

He presented it to Bilbo as soon as the hobbit returned from wherever he went during the day. Kili hoped he would like it, and was not disappointed in the least by the reaction he received. Bilbo didn't seem to mind what Kili considered middling craftsmanship at best, looking thrilled with the gift he had been given.

"Thank you!" Bilbo said for what seemed like the fifth time. From someone else, Kili would have thought it facetious, but the dwarf could see for himself that the hobbit was sincere in his appreciation.

"It was no trouble at all," Kili preened under the effusive praise.

"I must say, this is very useful, although," Bilbo gave him a mischievous grin, "I feel a bit like Gandalf with this, truth be told. I must look ridiculous,"

Kili laughed. He had considered making it small enough to fit inside Bilbo's pack, but in the end, Kili had made his present just a touch longer than the burglar was tall, using light wood so it would not be too heavy and could double as a walking stick besides.

"Perhaps Ori will knit you a gray cloak, you'll look a proper wizard then," Kili retorted, beginning to amble towards the mess hall where the rest of the Company congregated for dinner. 

"Don't you laugh at me, you miscreant," Bilbo laughed as he fell into step beside the dwarf. "I'm not so grateful that I won't bop you on the head with this!"

Bilbo made a half-hearted swing with the staff that was intended to miss, and Kili thought that it was good to see the hobbit smile for the first time in what seemed like many days, and so smiled wider in return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> Okay, when I came up with glowstones, I was thinking more like, naturally occurring glowsticks. I didn't know they were minecraft thing, lol. The name is completely unrelated.
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> Kili's present does not make Thorin's efforts useless, any more than having a flashlight makes the lightbulbs you have in the house useless. The two of them are really just more alike than they think, lol.
> 
> NOTE 3 
> 
> I retconned the time it would take Glóin and Nori to come back in the previous chapter. From a few days, it became at least a week. My only defense is that geography is hard.
> 
> NOTE 4
> 
> Another short chapter, because it was becoming too long again.


	8. Exploring Erebor, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori has some observations, and so does Bilbo.

Once he was satisfied with his notes of their journey for the time being, Ori's first order of business was to find a library. He asked his mentor, Balin, about it and tried not to get his hopes up, because even though much of the kingdom seemed undamaged, that wasn't necessarily true for the kingdom's Royal Library.

There were many libraries, apparently. The Guild of Scribes was not only one of the Greater Guilds, but one of the most regulated and populous ones. In fact, though Ori had no way of knowing this at the moment, the existence of Erebor's Guild of Scribes had been one of the most contentious, for many believed that it should have been broken up ages ago due to its size.

In the Wandering Years, of course, this issue would fall to the wayside.

Still composing letters to their kin in the Blue Mountains, Master Balin unfortunately couldn't accompany him yet, and simply gave him directions that seemed easy enough to follow. 

Ori, who had never left Ered Luin before this journey, still wound up getting lost in the vast halls of Erebor. When he returned to the mess hall, embarrassed, Master Dwalin offered to show him where it was.

“Mahal knows, I’ve been there often enough,” the warrior dwarf said under his breath, and it led Ori to thinking, not just of what Erebor must have been like in its glory, but of the older dwarrow of the Company in their youth as well.

Had Master Balin stayed at the Royal Library often, when _he_ was an apprentice? Had Master Dwalin, his younger brother, been obligated many times to bring him home? Or perhaps both brothers had spent many nights in the library? Though many things could be said about Dwalin, poorly educated was not among them, not in the least because he was personal guard and companion to the King.

Perhaps it was the King who Dwalin had been obligated to fetch from the library? This didn't sound unreasonable to the young scribe. On the journey to Erebor, Ori had overheard many arguments, disguised as discussions, between the king and the Company's Burglar. About many things, yes, but not the least of them were the ones regarding Elven literature and songs.

As a something of a scholar himself, Ori had mostly agreed with Bilbo, and thus said nothing except to the hobbit, lest he bring the ire of his King upon himself.

Once they arrived at the Royal Library, Ori stood at the threshold in awe, and was thankful beyond belief that the wondrous place had escaped the dragon’s notice. Even in the darkness, it was vast beyond comprehension. Every single book ever was in here somewhere, it seemed to the young dwarf.

Indeed, that had been its goal, when over a hundred dwarrow from his guild had maintained it. While the other, smaller libraries of the kingdom were more selective, the Royal Library's function had been to have at least one copy of every book. So, even if it was not well-written, into the archives it still went.

Dwalin looked at the second youngest dwarf in the Company with much fondness, and knew that if he asked Ori what the treasure of Erebor was, the scribe would first think of this place, before remembering the Halls of Treasure. 

Over the next few days, the two of them scoured the library for fell creatures that might roost in the institution's hallowed halls, and used their stonesense to look for any structural instability. Once they had made sure that there was no danger in the immediate area, Ori was excited to show Bilbo the library. They were kindred spirits this way, having a love for the written and spoken word, as well as the many languages in which these words lived. Though much of the library was in Khuzdul, there was no shortage of books in other scripts, and Ori felt sure that Bilbo would love it. Just at a glance, Ori could see that many titles were in the Common Speech. To his surprise, there were also titles in Sindarin and Quenya, and even others which he did not recognize.

When the two of them decided that it was safe enough for the hobbit, Dwalin and Ori went in search for the Company’s burglar. Though it was almost time for lunch, he was not in the soldier’s mess hall, nor was he in the room he had claimed in the guard's quarters for himself. He wasn't immediately outside having a smoke, either.

Eventually, a grim-faced Dwalin led them to the Halls of treasure. There they found him, grim faced and searching for something amongst the treasure. An uneasy feeling began to form in the pit of Ori’s stomach at the sight. 

Seeking to distract him from the unwholesome pull that the gold seemed to have, Ori called out to the hobbit. 

“Bilbo!” he said, voice purposefully light, “We have found the Royal Libraries of Erebor, and I wagered Master Dwalin that you would like them more than the ones we found in Rivendell! Won’t you come with us and settle the matter?”

To his relief, Bilbo seemed glad for their interruption, though what they interrupted Ori did not know, and the three of them journeyed to the library. By the time they arrived, it was past time for the evening meal, and there was not time for Bilbo to appreciate it properly, although he did try his best! He commanded the staff Kili had made him to glow, and gasped.

"You certainly don't do things by halves," he said faintly. The sheer number of the books seemed to take his breath away.

Instead of piling his little arms high with heavy books, however, Bilbo all but demanded that they show him how the books were arranged, for surely they weren't just placed on the shelves willy-nilly?

"Of course not!" laughed Dwalin, as he showed them a panel set upon a pedestal near the door. "This map will tell you were to go, if there is no one to guide you. There," he pointed to a ruby set upon the marble, "This marks the place were we stand at the moment."

Because the hobbit could not read Khuzdul, Dwalin patiently pointed at the most important parts, as well as any other he was asked to. Bilbo leaned his staff against the pedestal and brought out a small notebook from the small bag he carried. Dori had made it for him back in Lake Town, Ori knew, the materials taken from a ruined garment and sewn with care. Curiously, it seemed that hobbits were not in the habit of keeping more than small items in their pockets. Bilbo had expressed that he preferred having a small pack that he could carry slung over his shoulder for everyday use, and Ori's brother had obliged.

As excited as children, the two scholars made plans to return the very next day, Dwalin watching them with an amused look in his eye. As the three of made their long way back to the gateguards' quarters, the two dwarrow felt a deep fondness for their hobbit as he stopped several times to set more coins upon the ground. Though he was very different from them, without stonesense to navigate the halls, he seemed determined to make his own way through the mountain. To Ori, it seemed the mark of someone who was not just visiting, but staying, and this made him glad as he looked forward to the future.

He was very disappointed, then, when the friend he'd made on the journey remained a bit distant. It was not because he didn't like the library, or at least, Ori didn't think so. Ori wasn't expecting him to stay all day, after all, but neither did he expect Bilbo to just get the books he wanted and go off on his own. They hardly even saw each other!

It was... disappointing, to say the least. Ori thought they were better friends than that, and would have appreciated the company.

After a couple of days, the King stopped by, looking for Bilbo. Ori regretfully informed him that he was not in the library at the moment.

"What do you mean he's not here?" the King asked. "He left with you this morning, did he not?"

"Yes," replied Ori, "But he didn't linger here long. He just got a book and left."

The King did not look happy to hear that, his regal face pulling into a deep frown and his eyes drifting into the middle distance. It was clear to Ori that the King was troubled by this news. Though he was not known to take his anger out on the messenger, Ori still shrank a bit from his dark expression. Still, the young dwarf found that his concern outweighed his fear, and he asked, 

"Your highness, is something wrong with Bilbo?"

King Thorin's eyes immediately sharpened, his gaze falling on the young scribe once more.

"Why?" asked King Thorin, "What has happened?"

"Well, nothing really, just that he didn’t spend much time in the library like I thought he would. He seems fine enough when you see and speak to him, but you can tell that his mind is far away."

The King nodded, as if Ori's words had confirmed something, and soon left the library, leaving Ori alone once more. Sighing, the young scribe put away the book he had been reading, and brought out his record of the Quest.

It seemed their journey, the tale, was not over yet

* * *

The Kingdom Under the Mountain was beyond what Bilbo could have imagined before his journey. The sheer _scale_ of it was something that he didn't think he would ever get used to. Everything seemed designed to make one feel small and in the midst of something grand. He rather thought that he understood some of the Company a little better for having seen the place. Indeed, where else could Thorin have learned his regal air, but from the Lonely Mountain itself? Where else would Balin have learned his courtly manner, except in the grand halls of Erebor?

The more Bilbo saw, the more different it seemed from the Shire, save perhaps the Grand Smials of the Tooks, which Bilbo remembered from his childhood to be quite grand, though if it was grand in truth, or it only seemed to a fauntling's eyes, who could say?

It seemed like a lifetime ago, but Bilbo cast his mind back to Bag End, where everything was _just right_. It was warm, and cozy, and Bilbo could reach up and touch the ceiling, if he were so inclined. It certainly made cleaning easier, when it had to be done. Bilbo smiled, remembering how Gandalf couldn't stand upright in some of the rooms, and how more than one dwarf had bumped his head on Bilbo's round entryways.

In Erebor, Bilbo couldn't even _see_ the ceilings, and he shuddered to think what an ordeal cleaning them must be, for surely all manner of spiders and bats and things lived in those high, hard to reach places. It was all really too big. Bilbo imagined that gis every footstep would echo, if he allowed it. The floor, instead of warm wood that was soft on the feet, was often marble polished smooth as glass. And instead of a small round window in every room, the only windows Bilbo had seen thus far were large as chasms, cut deep into the mountain, where light and fresh air entered, but through which Bilbo couldn't see the sky.

For all the differences, however, the hobbit found that he was beginning to feel quite at home in Erebor. In truth, it was getting hard for Bilbo to imagine going back to Hobbiton and staying put. He _had_ to go back, of course, if only to settle his affairs. Make sure Lobelia kept her mitts off his mother's silverware, and didn't wriggle her way into living in Bag End. 

Still, Bilbo wondered if, perhaps, maybe, at the end of it all, he could return, and the dwarrow might find some room in the mountain for one not-quite-burglar and his friend.

Bilbo could see himself living the rest of his days here. Once it was a proper settlement, and not thirteen dwarrow and a hobbit rattling around an entire mountain, with a dragon living somewhere in secret. Their current place near the gates gave him plenty of sunshine when he walked about outside, and the soil around the mountain seemed fertile enough, currently covered in ash as it was. At the very least, the attempt to create a garden would be interesting

Really, if he could just find the Arkenstone, he'd be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> Another installment in the saga of "How many parts will Mula cut this chapter into" 
> 
> I don't know why it keeps getting longer, honestly.
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> Ahaha, so I was thinking about whether I want this fic to be Dwalin/Ori or not, and would love to get some feedback! I'm also considering Dwalin/Nori, so I am torn, because I love both pairings. :P
> 
> I'd love to hear people's thoughts in the comments!
> 
> NOTE 3
> 
> I have a headcanon, where the Scribes’ Guild was one of the biggest of the Greater Guilds out there in the dwarf kingdoms, because their work was so broad and diverse. In theory, the Scribes’ guild regulated the entire practice of law (in conjunction with the courts, of course!) and the academe as an institution, among other things. 
> 
> To compare, one of the many Lesser Guilds was maybe the Textile Workers' Guild, which was related to, but different from the Cobbler's Guild. The upside of being one of the Lesser Guilds is that each member had more power individually, because there was fewer of them. The downside was that the Greater Guilds have more voting power within the King’s Council.
> 
> Another big one would be the Cooking guild. One of its main sub-guilds was the Bakers' Guildhall, and they were strict as fuck. If you were found to be cutting your flour with white chalk or sawdust without informing the customer, you could lose a finger.
> 
> NOTE 4
> 
> Ori's POV was surprisingly difficult to write, but I thought it was a good one to use for what was happening. Also I like him, he's cute. :P
> 
> NOTE 5
> 
> I'm trying very hard to convey the scale of Erebor in this fic. It's not just the size of a small castle! Please consider that, moving almost non-stop, it took the Fellowship of the Ring nearly four days to cross Khazad-dûm. My headcanon is that Erebor was at least as big. 
> 
> There's a map of Moria here.
> 
> https://i.redd.it/p63psc4gc2x01.jpg
> 
> Erebor is different, of course, but in terms of picturing scale, i thought this was very helpful.


	9. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo explains The Plan to Smaug, and he learns some things about hobbits.

It was roughly a week since the Bilbo and the Company had arrived in Erebor. It seemed much longer to the hobbit, and much shorter at the same time.

_'It's because I've been spending so much time below ground,'_ was his personal opinion. Hobbits were not meant to spend this much time away from the sun, and it was making him addled, dulling his sense of time’s passing. He spared a moment of thought for his pocket watch, previously his mother’s, brought home from one of her journeys out of the Shire. No doubt it sat on his dresser, gathering dust beside his handkerchief.

Today, he and Smaug were taking a welcome break from their search for the Arkenstone. They'd had a close call with Ori an Dwalin coming to the Halls of Treasure to find him, and although nothing bad had come of it, Bilbo would prefer to avoid such an nerve-wracking incident in the future. Bilbo’s heart had nearly beat out of is chest as he stood there chatting with his friends while Smaug lurked quietly in the the gold beneath his feet. 

Still, the visit from the dwarrow had led him to the library, which was no small thing! More books than Bilbo could read in a lifetime, and he was eager to put it to the test.

In the deep mines of the Lonely Mountain, far away from the Company, Bilbo shared what he had discovered in the books with Smaug, having finally learned why the Arkenstone was important.

"You jest, little brother. That cannot be true," said Smaug incredulously, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.

"No, really, whoever has the stone is considered the King," replied Bilbo.

"It’s _The Rules_ ," he insisted.

It was clear that Smaug remained doubtful. But even so, to the hobbit, it really was as simple as that. Although Bilbo was an adventurous Took as much as he was a respectable Baggins, both Tooks and Bagginses were _Holbytla_ , Hobbits of the Shire. This meant that while one could turn up their nose at the idea of Respectability on some occasions (and some more often than others), one was _always_ obliged to Follow The Rules.

In the Shire, The Rules meant that the laws (for The Rules and The Law were not always the same thing) were _almost_ always followed, even if they came all the way from the High King of Fornost, who had been dead for an Age or at least a thousand years.

Apparently, in Erebor, The Rules were that whoever had the prettiest rock was King Under the Mountain. Somehow. It was strange to Bilbo, but then, many things that the dwarrow did were strange to him, and he'd learned to more or less accept the strangeness as part and parcel of his friends.

“Look here,” Bilbo held up the book in his hands for Smaug’s scrutiny, although he needn’t have bothered.

Smaug could speak Westron, yes, but he couldn’t read it. It would come as no surprise to Bilbo, had he given it more than a moment's thought, but in his eagerness to share his news, he would only realize it later in hindsight.

There was really was no opportunity for the dragon to learn Common script. The things on which the Common Speech was written on tended to burn in Smaug’s presence. Dragons and paper on one room together tended to leave the latter in ashes, and while dragons and stone were a better mix, Common Speech was not grand enough to grace the statues and monuments of the free people. Khuzdul was kept secret, and Elvish changed too fast for Smaug too keep track past Noldorin Quenyan.

As far as Smaug was concerned, Bilbo was now there to read to him, and so the matter was neatly resolved. 

“I do not doubt your words, Bilbo. I am just... surprised,” replied Smaug as he peered down at at the hobbit, “And you truly believe that, should I present the Arkenstone we have been searching for to the Dwarf King, he would allow me to stay in the Lonely Mountain with no trouble?”

“I don't know about no trouble, but I think it would be a good gesture,” answered Bilbo thoughtfully, “At the very least, it would show him that you weren’t dragon-sick any longer.”

“I place my trust in your judgement, then,” said Smaug, after a long moment. 

Bilbo could see that, although the dragon remained doubtful, he agreed to go along with Bilbo's plan of action anyway. He was grateful that Smaug chose to trust him in this matter, as he certainly knew the dwarrow better, and was sure that this would be the preferable course of action.

As friendly as he was, the dragon appear not to have a single diplomatic bone in his entirely too huge body. Manners in abundance it seemed, but Smaug didn't see any problem with, _politely_ , asking Thorin and Company to leave him alone for a century or two, and bother their heritage. When it came to dealing with the dwarrow, Smaug didn’t have a plan _per se_ , only a vague idea of _‘They can’t actually make me leave, I’m a powerful dragon, so I’m staying,’_ and so it fell to Bilbo to... smooth out the rough edges in that familiarly blunt approach.

(And if in private, he thought that the dragon and his friends were more alike than they thought, he kept it to himself.)

Bilbo had given much consideration as to how he could reconcile the dwarrow and the dragon. In the end, his best idea was an exchange of valuable items, to encourage a similar exchange of trust. Bilbo hoped the return of the Arkenstone as a gesture of goodwill by the dragon would ease many minds, as much as seeing Thorin extend a hand in friendship would. To this end, Bilbo carefully kept the dragon egg Smaug had given him in fire whenever he could, hoping against hope that it would still hatch. What could be a bigger gesture of kindness and trust than the safe return of one of Smaug's children?

A part of Bilbo said that perhaps a conversation might be enough to settle the matter, but he was not that naive. And truthfully, he was still afraid, somewhere in his little hobbit heart, that a meeting between the two would result in one of them dead.

He shook his head to banish the unpleasant thought. 

“Why do you call me _little brother_?” Bilbo asked, to change the subject. He had some time yet before he had to make the long trek back to the Company.

The hobbit carded his hands through the gold coins he sat on, trying to get his bearings. Some of it, a paltry amount, he’d brought down to Smaug’s place of hiding deep in the mines. He'd stopped after the first time, when he saw the truly staggering amount the dragon had been able to bring down on his own, and the dragon had assured him that it was unnecessary.

Smaug took a moment before replying, which Bilbo was beginning to understand as his friend considering how much to reveal about dragon lore. Bilbo didn't mind. Despite all the ways it was the same, it was also very different from being the Company. The hobbit guessed that there was an acceptable amount of information for dwarrow to reveal to outsiders, an amount that was generally agreed upon by dwarrow amongst themselves, and which Bilbo generally accepted.

In contrast, Smaug's careful consideration of each question led Bilbo to believe that this was new ground to the dragon as much as it was to the hobbit. It was a bit exciting to think that he was about to hear things about dragons that no one else knew!

After some thought, Smaug began to tell him about the spark of magic he'd felt at their first meeting, and how even now, he could sense the magic of Yavanna in Bilbo.

Bilbo had never felt very magical in his life, and would have been very skeptical hearing that hobbits had magic from anyone else, but there seemed to be no reason for Smaug to lie about something so strange, and it did have a ring of truth in it.

Bilbo wasn’t very religious. As far as he knew, most hobbits were not, but he _did_ have some vague inkling that the Lady Yavanna was somehow involved with hobbits, the same way dwarrow seemed to pray to _Aulë_ specifically, and not _Eru Ilúvatar_ the way Men and Elves did. 

But he'd thought it was only because she was known as Queen of the Earth. Where the hearts of hobbits truly dwelt was in good tilled earth, and Bilbo had always thought that this was why he was drawn to the lady, the same way he imagined birds would worship Manwë if they could, and fish would worship Ulmo. This was the first time he'd heard of hobbits as creatures of Yavanna, and not Eru as he'd been carelessly taught in his youth.

"When the Lady Kementári sang her song of power, she must have spared a verse or two for hobbits," Smaug told him.

"Although," and here his voice gained a teasing edge, "she must not have sung as loudly as she did for the dragons and the ents, for you are so _small_."

It was the first time, in all of Bilbo’s travels, that he encountered someone who knew more about hobbits than he did, save perhaps Gandalf who seemed to know everything anyway but did not share, and therefore did not count.

Bilbo himself was, perhaps oddly, more familiar with the elven myths than hobbit myths, for this was his first time hearing this particular tale. _A Elbereth Gilthoniel_ , and the tale of Bren and Luthien, these were the stories of his childhood, told to him by his Took mother who had traveled as far as Rivendell in her youth.

Thoughts of his mother led Bilbo to think on his life, and how he had perhaps fifty years left. Maybe sixty, if he were particularly long-lived. A blink of an eye to someone like Smaug, who had told him that dragons were like elves in this way, deathless. 

He didn’t want Smaug to be alone after he died. Or even while he was alive! Smaug was such pleasant company, and told such good stories, Bilbo found he quite wanted the dragon to have as many friends as he could.

Casting his thoughts into the far flung future, Bilbo considered a time when dwarrow and elves and all the creatures of Middle Earth were no longer angry at Smaug and all other dragons for something they couldn’t control. Perhaps, the far future long after Bilbo was gone, the dragon could travel the land in peace with his children. Perhaps meet other hobbits, even!

"Maybe we could visit the Shire one day," said Bilbo, "So you might see for yourself that hobbits are not small, only you are much too big!"

"You wish to bring me to your homeland?" asked Smaug, sounding very pleased.

"Oh, I don’t know if they’re prepared for you in Hobbiton, but perhaps in Buckland, where the brave Hobbits live. They might sound the Horn first, but they’re quite open minded over there," replied Bilbo.

He had fond memories of the Brandybucks. His aunt Mirabella had married one, and he remembered spending many youthful summers trailing after Rorimac, and then exploring the edges of the Old Forest with Asphodel and Primula. Bilbo imagined they would also quite like the dragon once they got to know him. 

"I think I would like that, little brother,"

Bilbo thought of being an only child, and how Bag End was built big for siblings it turned out he would never have

Little brother sounded nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> I can’t believe it took me this long to have Bilbo and Smaug talking again.
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> The updates aren't as regular, but this fic is definitely still being updated! I hope everyone likes the new chapter!
> 
> :P


	10. The Aviaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin and Bilbo go on a short trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesssss. After so long, we have another Bilbo and Thorin chapter! I hope it lives up to the long wait between chapters, life is something else, lol

“Perhaps you could keep me company today, Master Baggins,” Thorin said. It wasn’t a question.

Bilbo’s reply was between bites and in kind: “Back to Master Baggins, are we.”

It was morning in Erebor once again, and the members of the Company were eating breakfast together before they went their separate ways for the day. Nori and Gloin had not yet come back from their sojourn to Lake Town to obtain more supplies, but Bifur and the rest had returned yesterday from their trip to the edge of Mirkwood with hunted game and herbs. Bombur had cooked everything to perfection, and Bilbo was showing his appreciation in the manner of dwarrow.

Which was to say, he was eating with gusto and complete abandon. Thorin considered it a test from Mahal himself, as he watched the hobbit lick up a trail of grease as it dripped down his arm, and then moan obscenely at the taste.

Unable to keep his eyes from following the path Bilbo’s tongue traced across his skin, Thorin managed to choke out, “I have hardly seen you as of late; it seems always more prudent to be polite to an acquaintance.” 

The dwarf king was well aware that he was likely making a fool of himself. Mercifully, it seemed to him that Bilbos was utterly oblivious to the fact. 

(The same could not be said for anyone else at the table. Thorin could only hope that the smell of food masked the smell of his...distraction.)

“Acquaintance, pah, bite your tongue, fool dwarf, and spare me your melodramatics. Where are we off to today, for you to request my esteemed company?”

_’Anywhere far from that blasted treasure,’_ was Thorin’s first thought, but he was wise enough not to say so out loud.

...Actually, he _did_ have an errand of sorts that he wished to see done. The Aviaries, home to the famed Ravens of Erebor, were in good condition, or so Dwalin had told him. Still, Thorin wanted to see them for himself. And given how fond of animals Bilbo seemed, Thorin was looking forward to his reaction to the ravens. They were clever little things, and the dwarf king was grateful that they were the local fauna of Erebor. Thorin vastly preferred them to the boars his cousin Dain kept; and Aviaries smelled better than a stable to Thorin, albeit not by much.

Leaving the rest of The Company to their own business for the day, Bilbo and Thorin left the table as soon as they were finished eating to prepare. The climb to their destination and walk back would take them the better part of the day. Armed with full knowledge of his hobbit’s voracious appetite, Thorin packed extra food and water, then ignored Bilbo's protests and shouldered the lion's share himself.

Not that Bilbo protested much. 

"Have it your way, confounded dwarf," the hobbit grumbled with good-nature, well-aware that he could probably climb into the pack himself, and the dwarf would still be able to carry it all without much effort.

Without further delay, they were off.

The trip was not an arduous one, and Bilbo seemed to enjoy the brisk pace he set. Even so, they were barely an hour into the hike when Thorin caught the scent of the hobbit, working up a mild sweat.

Bilbo's insistence on walking ahead, despite not knowing the way, gave Thorin the chance to linger close to his companion, directing the hobbit with a hand on the shoulder or elbow or, in one daring instance, a hand on his back.

As he did so, Thorin took these opportunities to breathe in the smell of the hobbit deeply, aware now after all this time that Bilbo did not appreciate being openly scented, calling it “rude” and “ill-mannered”. Thorin put it down as that excessive sense of propriety that all hobbits seemed to have. 

Dwarrow, in general, could read someone’s scent about as well as they could read someone’s face. It was for this reason that Men and Elves, who the Dwarrow thought merely overly fond of hearing themselves speak, considered Dwarrow a taciturn race.

It was no wonder, as Dwarrow did not mention in words what they thought was obvious in one’s scent. 

A great number of things were revealed by a cursory sniff. It was particularly helpful underground, as it allowed Dwarrow to smell the dangerous gases released by mining, though it had other uses as well. Thorin could tell with a cursory sniff someone's sex or age or race, even the emotions that men liked to hide behind a diplomatic expression.

Hobbits, however…

Gandalf had been onto something when he’d said that the dragon Smaug would not have recognized the smell of hobbit. Indeed, when the Dwarrow had first come to the Blue Mountains after Erebor fell, it was only after months of trade that Thorin could begin to tell the smell of Hobbits apart, never mind know which ones were happy or sad, male or female. 

Not that Thorin knew a lot of hobbits personally. He was passing acquaintances with a few in Bree, but they confused Thorin's nose in a way that Men and Elves did not.

He knew what fear smelled like on hobbits, of course. Bilbo's fear, in particular, he'd had occasion to scent a number of times. The attacks from orcs and wargs and spiders had seen to it that he would never again doubt that particular odor. But other scents from the hobbit were harder for Thorin to distinguish. 

Other smells _on_ the hobbit were easier for Thorin. The dwarf could tell whenever Bilbo had spent the day in the Halls of treasure; the hobbit always returned reeking of Smaug. At least he no longer smelled of dragon at the moment. A quick solitary bath before breakfast, all that they could manage before any of the bath houses were repaired, had taken care of it. 

Right now, the King Under the Mountain was inhaling as deeply and discretely as he could, trying to figure out if Bilbo smelled happy or not. As much time as they'd spent together on the road, it still wasn't easy.

It was almost distressing, not being able to discern such a simple fact about his companion. Often, Bilbo seemed to say one thing and mean another, never mind how he felt beneath the words. It was not malicious, Thorin was sure, markedly different from the doublespeak of Elves and the mercurial temperament of Men. Instead, it was Hobbitish politeness. _Manners_ , as Bilbo had once told him, nose high in the air, long before they had reached Rivendell. As if it was a courtesy to be left confused by a simple conversation. 

Years without practice dealing with hobbits had left Thorin rusty. All he could tell was from his brief visit to the Shire at the beginning of their journey was that most Hobbits smelled mostly of flowers or food, and that, to Thorin, Bilbo in particular smelled like home.

As they travelled, Thorin took care to point out the different buildings and structures. In a way, he was introducing Bilbo to Erebor. 

(He very carefully did not think of the fact that Bilbo hardly needed to be able to navigate by himself, as he would likely be leaving The Lonely Mountain once winter was over. )

* * *

As helpful as Thorin was being by pointing out things, Bilbo could hardly tell the difference between the many buildings.

So he made sure to keep placing his coins on the ground, marking their path. As he did so, he noticed that they were leaving footsteps in the dust that had settled in the mountain. The imprint of a bare foot and a dwarven boot beside it. 

He took a moment to appreciate the picture it made, his footprint with the toes making little round dots, beside the angular pattern left by the design on the underside of Thorin’s boots. He decided to leave a single coin there, to mark the location, grinning at his own whimsy. 

Before long, they had ventured deep enough into the mountain that their pace had slowed considerably, and Bilbo needed to command his walking stick to light their path, the famed Lamps of Erebor hanging above them dark with neglect. 

“Something you picked up in your wandering of Erebor?” Thorin asked as light flooded the vas passageway. 

Perhaps flooded was a strong word, as Bilbo still couldn’t see more than a dozen feet in front of him, but it was enough to not fall off a dangerous precipice, which was what he needed, and he had Thorin to guide him, besides. 

“It’s a staff Kili made; I quite like it. Your nephew is very sweet, and his work looks incredible. Such skill!”

Thorin held out his hand for the staff, and Bilbo handed it over unquestioningly, although to lose it now would.. probably not be the best idea, given how dark it was.

The hobbit would never be able to get back to the main gates without it.

“Is ‘incredible’ what you call the work of an amateur? Look at the runework. Shoddy craftsmanship, at best,” Thorin declared, pointing to a section of design that looked, to Bilbo at least, much the same as any other part of the intricate pattern etched into the wood.

“I’ll thank you not to pick on a gift given with good intentions, Mister Oakenshield! If you get no presents yourself, it is no wonder!” 

Bilbo reached out his hand for the staff, intending to snatch it away before the dwarf could nitpick any further, but as he did so, their hands touched, and Bilbo froze, eyes darting up to meet Thorin’s gaze.

They passed a moment between them. A spark, quick as lightning, and burned into the back of Bilbo’s eyelids just the same. The hobbit very nearly pulled away at the contact, if that wasn’t such a ridiculous notion. Not to mention rude, to recoil at a mere brush of the fingers. Bilbo held his breath.

It was only after a few long seconds had passed, an eternity to the hobbit, that he was able to make himself take firm hold of the staff and pull it away, Thorin’s grip on the item loose and unresisting. 

Thorin’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his face unreadable, before he cleared his throat and moved on, his dwarf eyes able to pick a path in the darkness. Collecting himself, Bilbo followed after him. 

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Bilbo had almost convinced himself that the rush of emotion was just guilt. Yes, he was just starting to feel guilty about keeping Smaug's continued presence in the mountain a secret. It had been more than a week, after all, and he was still having no luck in finding the Arkenstone. If this kept up, he would have to think of a different plan. 

Bilbo pondered this in silence, feeling caught between, well, being caught between a dragon and a company of dwarrow, which was descriptive as well as accurate. 

Before long, the awkwardness had faded, and Thorin had returned to pointing out the different landmarks that they were passing, unable to contain his fondness for the place he called home. Bilbo listened to every word, determined that he would learn to navigate by himself one day. In the meantime, he carefully placed his coins on the floor whenever he could. 

* * *

They reached The Aviary in almost no time at all, or at least, that was what it felt like to Bilbo, though the placement of the sun belied his notions. The sun was at its zenith, high in the sky. Bilbo laughed out loud at the feeling of its rays shining down on his face.

The Aviary was a large crevasse in the mountain face that opened up into the sky. Sheer rock walls on all sides surrounded it, and from what Bilbo could see, the only way out was up.

“If I had known that this place would bring you such joy, I would have brought you here sooner,” Thorin said from beside the hobbit, watching his companion.

Bilbo merely hummed in contentment, taking his time in replying

“The inside of the Lonely Mountain is a wonderful place,” Bilbo picked his words out carefully. “It is only that I am a hobbit, and do best in sunlight.”

The hobbit took a deep breath. 

“And the air up here is really something else! It seems clearer, somehow. And the view is spectacular.”

The tense lines that had appeared on Thorin’s face lessened, though they did not disappear entirely. After a moment, Bilbo decided that this would be an excellent place for lunch. Though the company burglar had long grown used to eating at dwarrow times, he was eager to get back to his own, more hobbitish schedule. Thus, second breakfast had been simple and eaten on foot, and though elevenses had been skipped altogether, Bilbo hoped to make up for it with as lavish a lunch as could be provided, given the circumstances. 

Leaving Bilbo to choose a spot for their meal, Thorin went inside to see the ravens, and though greatly diminished in number, the few left seemed hale and hearty. He called out to Bilbo that he found them as Dwalin said. 

  
  


* * *

Thorin did not envy the dwarrow that would be given the task of cleaning up the Aviary. He was a little disconcerted to realize that, until this moment, he had not given the matter much thought, even though as a young dwarf, he had been to the Aviary countless times, visiting the ravens who had pledged their service to the Line of Durin. His entire life, it had always been a bright place, clean, and with countless dwarrow nearby going about their business, as the Aviary was very close to the main waystation for Erebor’s internal courier service.

Now the inner areas were empty, and dirty, and smelled worse than they looked. Still, no fault could be found with the ravens, whose presence had foretold Thorin’s own return to the Lonely Mountain. With their help, he would be able to send word to his sister to announce the success of Thorin’s secret mission, and begin preparations for their people’s journey home. 

They ate their lunch in a small area that they had cleared of debris and dust. After a while, Thorin had brought out letters from his pack, sorting them and giving them a last look before sealing them with wax. 

“Oh, I didn't know your sister was still alive,” said Bilbo, who had been looking over Thorin’s shoulder. 

“What? Why would you think otherwise?” Thorin, surprised.

“Oh, well,” here Bilbo sputtered a bit, while Thorin waiting fondly and patiently for the hobbit to come to the point, which was that “Fili and Kili say Uncle the way they would say _'father'_ , you see, and I thought…”, he trailed off, but Thorin could guess well enough what he meant. 

“She's alive, and spitting mad that I brought them with me on this perilous quest. But it is largely for them that I reclaim the heritage of my people, so she cannot complain too much.

"And as the dragon is gone, she shall be back here in Erebor soon, so all is well in the end. She'll be glad to return to the Lonely Mountain, for she took the loss of our home harder than I, though she remembers it less. She was less than a decade when Smaug attacked, and our brother Frerin had been a mere babe.”

“I see,” Bilbo said, before taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. “Then their father has passed? It’s just, I know Fili is your heir and I know that among men it is the sons who inherit. By hobbit reckoning, your sister or her husband should be next in line for the throne, not Fili, so I must admit to some curiosity in this matter.”

“Children are quite rare among dwarrow.” Thorin replied. He gave Bilbo a strange look before he went on, ”I was crown prince and, soon after my father went missing, a king before my time. As such, I never expected to find a spouse, being too busy to attend to such matters. And so my heirs are my sister-sons. I had a hand in raising Fili and Kili as much as their mother and father, as they would have, had I been the one fortunate enough to sire children of my own.

"To answer your question, both of them are alive, and it is often the eldest who inherits the title. Had Dis been born before me, she likely would have been trained to rule, and not I."

Thorin could see that Bilbo was giving the matter some thought, mulling it over as they finished their meal. 

_‘Are hobbits so different?’_ the dwarf king wondered. 

Though the dwarf had some knowledge on hobbits that came from encountering them in Bree, most of what he knew now came from the Company Burglar. Bilbo, they had found, rivaled Glóin in enthusiasm when it came to speaking of his family and his people, though the hobbit’s own family tree was definitely more extensive. Everyone in the Company had been surprised, bordering on shocked, to learn that Hobbits seemed to breed like rabbits, present company excluded. Bilbo’s father, Thorin knew, had been the eldest of five, while his mother was ninth out of _twelve_. 

By contrast, Thorin’s having two siblings was already quite fortunate indeed, and had been taken by his grandfather Thrór  as a sign that the line of Durin was blessed by Mahal during his reign. Having four was so rare as to possibly be mere rumors, for Thorin had yet to meet a dwarrowdam who had accomplished such a feat, and a single dwarrowdam having five children was unheard of. 

A chuckle escaped from Thorin at the idea of having five children all to himself. Imagine! Five children! How would Erebor remain standing after such an onslaught of Durins? 

_‘Perhaps,’_ Thorin thought wistfully as they tidied their area, _‘One of Bilbo’s many, many cousins could be persuaded to allow Fostering.’_

It was a slim chance, but with Bilbo, he had taken worse odds with better results.

* * *

After a brief chat with the ravens—

(“Chat! With Ravens! Does everything in the East speak as people do? Will The Lonely Mountain itself soon ask me about the weather?” Bilbo had laughed in wonder.)

—The two companions were soon affixing the many letters they carried to the feathered messengers. They were quite a sight all lined up, looking to Bilbo like large ducklings who had been dipped in soot. The hobbit was eager to see them off, as he was sending word to the Shire that he wouldn't be back for a while yet, but that he was still alive, thank you, and please keep the Sackville-Bagginses out of Bag End.

Thorin had a good chuckle at that, and added a note to his own letters while Bilbo was cooing over some of the younger ravens, who were still too small to make the long journey. 

To his letter for Dis, a small postscript was added, asking her to send someone to the Shire to aid the Gamgees in their defense of Bilbo’s home. Though a part of Thorin wished that Bilbo would stay in Erebor, it seemed churlish to hope Bilbo would lose his beloved Bag End to ensure it. 

To the Thain, The dwarf king added something to the tail end of his inquiries regarding a trading relationship— a request that special consideration be given to Bilbo’s own concerns, as he was _Khuzdbahel_ , dwarf-friend, and held in high honor by the kingdom of Erebor. 

Task accomplished, they made their way back to the Main gates, arriving to find that the Company had just begun to eat the evening meal. Bilbo regaled the company with the things they had seen on the journey to the Aviaries, the younger dwarrow listening intently with bright eyes, while the ones who had lived in Erebor saw their former home with fresh eyes, seeing perhaps what Thorin could sometimes feel dancing on the edge of his thoughts; Erebor, not as it was, but as it could be. 

It had been such a good day that Thorin was disappointed when Bilbo seemed to withdraw from the Company even further after that, and could not be found at all the next day. 

* * *

**Notes**

A note on the Lamps of Erebor.

> Given the fact that dwarrow are well equipped to live in the dark, that doesn’t mean that dwarrow do not love the light, as all things blessed by Eru Ilúvatar do. As Mahal forged the great towers in the North and in the South to house the two large lamps, Illuin and Ormal, so too do dwarrow create great structures of light in their halls underneath the mountains.
> 
> Although Khazad-dûm was the greatest of all the dwarven kingdoms, it was in The Lonely Mountain that they found the crystals which would lead to the creation of the famous lamps, and thus the lamps in Erebor are greater than the ones in what is now called Moria. Made in the Second age, the magic and runework used to create the lamps were quite impressive and new, and led to the construction of the mirror system that allowed sunlight into the deepest parts of the mountain. But that is another matter entirely.
> 
> For the lamps themselves, the maintenance of them is considered an honor and a testament of skill. No one Guild holds power over them in this regard, as dwarrow from all walks of life want to honor their maker and their maker’s maker for many reasons. A dwarf may pledge service to the kingdom, to maintain the lamps, and be paid a stipend by the Royal Treasury, but this is only after the dwarf in question has spent a year studying the lamps, either with a master or on their own. Many consider this a pilgrimage of sorts, and some dwarrow will undertake the task in order to ask Mahal for a boon (often for a child to be born). There are a few dwarrow who spend their whole lives studying and taking care of the lamps. 

Notes on Organizations.

> A company is a group with a specific job goal, often from different guilds, as they usually undertake complex tasks. A fellowship (in dwarven culture) is usually a group of people within the same guild who have an interest in the same specific topic.
> 
> For example, in the Greater Guild of Metal workers, there might be an under-Guild for the working of precious metals. There might be, within that under-guild, a fellowship of companions who specialize in a specific method of smithing precious metals, or they might specialize in the smithing of a specific precious metal, like gold or platinum.
> 
> In contrast, a company dedicated to building, for example, might have a scribe, a metalsmith, a stonewright, and a merchant, among others. Each would use their specific talents to create a finished work: a house or a home. Companies in general are more formal than fellowships, as companies require that you sign a contract for a specific job, while Fellowships usually do not, and it is enough that you share that common interest. 

Notes on Fostering

> Dwarrow without children in the family will sometimes foster a child from another family. Often, this is from another family that is still somewhat related, like a distant cousin.
> 
> I have a headcanon (not finalized yet) that Balin maybe was fostered by Thráin before Thorin was born, and that he had a good chance of inheriting the throne when he was young, although he never knew it. When Thorin had been born, Fundin, who knew well the burden of being King Under the Mountain, requested that the duty be passed on to Thorin instead of Balin.
> 
> This is the reason that Balin is so well-trained for a life of politics, I think, and Thorin looks to him for advice sometimes.

* * *

Some concept art i was playing around with while writing the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE 1
> 
> Thorin being thirsty af in the first part, I’m so sorry 
> 
> And YES he DID slip up and call Bilbo HIS hobbit, not the Company’s hobbit. <3  
> 
> 
> NOTE 2
> 
> Okay, so if elves can have super eyesight and be able to run across a tightrope that is stretched across a river with no problem, then I decree that dwarves can have an extremely accurate sense of smell. 
> 
> Azog even says that he can smell fear on Thorin. I’d like to think that, instead of a figure of speech, maybe it was literal, and orcs might have the same ability as dwarves. 
> 
> NOTE 3
> 
> I’m so sad for Thorin, lol, at least Ori and Dwalin have some idea that Bilbo might like to stay. Thorin is still operating under the assumption that Bilbo might go back to the Shire once winter is over. 
> 
> NOTE 4
> 
> I am hinting pretty heavily at something with this chapter so there are no surprises later, hahaha, also to let people know that I was planning this all along :P
> 
> It will probably not make an appearance for QUITE some time, and i might even change my mind later. But if you want an explicit spoiler for what i am currently planning, or you want to guess and receive an honest reply, hit me up in the comments!
> 
>   
> NOTE 5
> 
> I am super excited for the next chapter! What’s this? Plot? Happening? Can it be?

**Author's Note:**

> Maps to Guide Your Way  
> [Middle Earth](https://i.imgur.com/NrgFc4C.jpg%22)
> 
> Zoom in on the Company's Path  
> [Map 1](https://cutewallpaper.org/21/middle-earth-map-high-resolution/Photos-The-Original-Writers-Group-London-England-Meetup.jpeg)  
> [Map 2](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/f/f1/Rhudaur_from_map.png/revision/latest?cb=20190423141458)  
> [The Shire](https://cutewallpaper.org/21/middle-earth-map-high-resolution/Explore-Map-Of-Middle-Earth-Map-Wallpaper-and-more.jpg)
> 
> [The Lonely Mountain and Surroundings](http://cdn8.openculture.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/tolkien-map.jpg)  
> 


End file.
